#it's wild how the same people who claim ao3 is good because of the tags will then turn around with this one

[justagalwhowrites]

Hi Kit I was just wondering why for all of your stories you tag them as character x reader / character x you when in lavender and beskar doll and now in yearling, they aren't actually reader inserts? They have names or descriptions or face claims so they are OCs. As someone that has been reading fic for a long time, it can be disappointing when you go into a story based on tags and then the tags are misleading because writers are trying to get around the use of the "OC" tag so that more people will read their story.

Hi Bestie!

So I tag them that way for a few reasons! The big one is because I write it in the you format with the intention of people inserting themselves into the story.

I do try to keep descriptions to a minimum (which I know that I don’t do the BEST job at? It’s an adjustment from writing books which is where I’m approaching fic writing from but I’m trying to get better at it.) I usually limit it to the FMC is shorter than the Pedro character (this is because he tends to play physically imposing characters so I imagine him as being the tallest person in just about every room) and then amount of hair (which is generally variable from person to person, assuming they’re able to grow hair.) I did include things like “blushed” early on and I’m making a more conscious effort to avoid that kind of language because it didn’t occur to me before! That’s on white privilege, yo! They have FCs for me but I don’t share them unless people ask as that’s who I picture when writing, not how I describe the character. I don’t think I could write a character without knowing how they looked, it’s just not how I create characters! But they’re intended to be however you picture them. For example, my mom is reading Lavender but isn’t on Tumblr and she asked how I pictured Doc. She was shocked when I showed her the FC as it didn’t line up with what she had in her head at all and I think that’s great!

When it comes to physical description and inclusivity in the reader insert space, it’s an interesting dynamic to me. I minimize descriptions (or feel like I do anyway!) but it’s still all predicated on reader being able to walk, to use both hands, to be able to see and hear. Reader inserts are kind of inherently ableist - it would be pretty impossible to write an insert that accounted for every disability! - we just tend to be more ready to draw the line at other aspects of physical description. (Probably because it impacts more people!)

As far as names go, the only character who has a published name is Doll (and I only included that because she abandoned that name when she went into hiding, all her other names she adopted and has no attachment to, like reader would in her position) and even then, you hear her real name I think 3 times? Otherwise, they all have nicknames and nicknames only. I do have names for them in my head (just part of how I develop my characters, I know everything about them before I write them) but they’re not included in the story. I haven’t ever shared them on Tumblr, either. Doc goes by Dr. Miller after she marries Joel but that’s because she took his name so it would be the same for reader. Otherwise, she goes by Kid, Doc, Teach, Baby, Love, Sweetheart, etc. Doll is usually Doll, Cyare, Mesh’la, an adopted name, or Sister. In Yearling, Bambi is just what Joel calls her because she reminds him of a frightened, wild deer. That’s definitely not her actual name and I think that’s mentioned in chapter one.

I will admit, I give my characters very vibrant backstories which might nudge them more into OC territory and I do include the x OC tag on AO3 because of that. I’m definitely not trying to mislead anyone to get more readers! I’ll be honest, I figured like a dozen people tops would ever read anything I wrote, it didn’t even really cross my mind. I wrote it for me because it was fun and felt good to do, everything else has just been a bonus.

All that being said, I am sorry I misled you! That wasn’t my intention and I hope you don’t feel like you invested too much time or emotional energy only to be let down.

I appreciate you reaching out and I hope this was helpful! Love you!

[jupitermelichios]

8, 9, and 10 if you want to! :)

8) a character you think did nothing wrong but fandom demonizes?

I know exactly enough about homestuck to know saying vriska here would be a funny joke, but not enough to actually know who she is or what she did or didn't do wrong, lmoa

Memes aside though, Scott McCall is innocent and I am prepared to defend him in court if necessary.

I do get why fandom didn't latch onto him the way they did other teen wolf characters, he's the platonic ideal of a highschool boyfriend and that's not the kind of character that usually appeals to people Doing A Fandom, but people hate him So Much, and I don't get it. He's just a little guy, he's a little birthday boy. Why are you hitting him when it's his birthday?

I especially don't get the 'Scott is a bad friend' take that's so common it has a canon AO3 tag. Him and Stiles have a pretty unhealthy co-dependant friendship, absolutely, but it's very much mutual, and Scott is just as ride or die for Stiles as Stiles is for him. They're just a couple of weird little guys who have had no one else to talk to but one another for years, and have ended up with a freaky psychosexual mess of a friendship, we've all been there.

(also 90% of all female characters from kids cartoons, but that's a wider issue than just fandom taking a dislike to a character. the fact that there are people who think mable pines committed any crime worse than 'having the emotional maturity of a 12 year old while being literally 12 years old' is baffling and terrifying in equal measure)

9) a character that did a lot of things wrong in canon that you think fandom woobifies?

Loki, obviously. I've done my time in the MCU fic trenches, and oh boy some of the Loki takes I've seen...

Stiles Stilinski, the counterpart to the demonisation of Scott. They are basically the exact same level of problematic in a very believable teenage way in canon, but in fanon Scott becomes a monster and Stiles becomes a woobie.

Every single member of the Batfamily, but most of all, Alfred Pennyworth. He's a fun character and an excellent valet, and he loves Bruce and the kids, but my god was he a shit parent. How does anyone look at Bruce Wayne and conclude Alfred was a good parent? It baffles me. 'I raised master bruce'. you ruined a perfectly good orphan is what you did. look at it. it's got anxiety.

(There is one exception to this, and that is the Alfred from the Gotham TV show, who has done nothing wrong in his life ever, and does stuff like hug Bruce, and tell him that he loves him, and actually talk to him about his trauma. 100/10, best Alfred, don't @ me)

But the big one, the one that will result in me just blocking people so I don't have to see their takes on my dash, is John Constantine. And this isn't fully fandom's fault, recent DC TV and animated movies absolutely also do this, but the result is just this horrible oroborous of bad takes as TV writers who think they're too smart for comics inform the opinions of fans who don't want to engage with moral ambiguity, and then the writers respond to what those fans enjoy by making him even more toothless, and around and around it goes until you get this character who is utterly unrecognisable as John, and cruicially, feels fictional, which is the absolute worst thing a version of John can be. If the fact that multiple Hellblazer writers have reported meeting him irl doesn't feel at least a little bit plausible, that's not John.

(and if this is your first time hearing about that, yes multiple otherwise apparently sane writers of a vertigo comic book have claimed to have met the character they created in real life, and the fandom just accepts that as a canon part of his mythos. comics are wild.)

10) what is your favorite “problematic” fandom?

I guess it depends how you define problematic.

I made the decision not to engage with it anymore when jkr lost her mind, and also because I just lost interest and moved on to other fandoms as I got older, but I'm not going to pretend I didn't have a lot of fun in the harry potter fandom when I was a teenager. It was my first real fandom, and I'll always have some nostalgia for it for being my gateway drug into this community, despite everything.

The Fannibals are some of the most talented and creative people in fandom, the art and fic for Hannibal is absolutely incredible, definitely the highest average standard of fic I've encountered in a fandom. Plus it's nice to have a fandom where you know people are capable of engaging critically with dark content. I won't say there are no antis in the fandom, they seem to turn up everywhere these days, but they're easily drowned out by the people who actually remember stuff like SLS and YKINMKATO

I have a weird soft spot for Twilight, something about it just hits the so bad it's good groove in my brain just right, and the recent twilight renaisance has been very fun to watch, but I haven't really engaged with the fandom all that much beyond reblogging some memes (and writing an 8,000 word not!fic about how much better twilight would be if bella swan was polyamorous that one time)

And despite the whole ackles tapes conspiracy theory, and the prevelance of tinhatting, and the dumb shipwars, I'll always have a special place in my heart for the supernatural fandom. it's a fucked up place to live, but I had a lot of fun there, and i still visit on occaision.

[claire-starsword]

if you’re the kind to say “full offense you wouldn’t have survived ff.net” you’re the kind that feels superiority over not having triggers or trauma and i literally don’t care what you have to say

if you’re trying to make an argument about something else please think before you speak cause that’s not at all what you’re saying with this one

[butterflyinthewell]

I don’t care what side of fandom discourse you fall on…

But this is meant for fandom antis who claim to be against pedophilia and incest (but are liars and are not.)

I say this as a proshipper who hates most of the same ships fandom antis harass people for. There are posts in the proship tags I don’t touch because it’s not my thing.

If you fight so hard against seeing underage fictional characters getting molested, yet tell a real underage person who got molested that they deserved it for being proship, you don’t actually care about csa survivors and you are a disgusting person.

I thought you fandom antis cared about protecting children, yet you’ve mocked children for getting molested and even driven some to suicide. Are you fucking proud of yourselves?

Proshippers aren’t into getting molested. Nobody is into that.

It doesn’t matter if their AO3 account is full of fics about characters getting molested, nobody is into that actually happening to them. (Barring kinks with consensual noncon, but that’s still consensual and it stops with a safe word, real molestation doesn’t stop with a word!)

Look, someone can say Ed Elric deserves to get fondled all they want because he’s a fictional character from FullMetal Alchemist and it doesn’t matter. I think that’s gross, but I won’t care much that someone said it. He’s not real, go wild, I can look away.

I do care when you say that about real people. When you say a 13 year old deserved to get molested because they’re proship and “into that”, you cross so many lines that shouldn’t be crossed.

If you say someone deserves to get raped, hurt, murdered or abused because they created fiction you don’t like, you are the bad person and you are not wanted in fandom.

You don’t belong in society either.

You don’t belong anywhere until you can tell fiction apart from reality and realize real people matter more.

No, having psychosis or delusions isn’t an excuse either. Those are terrible to deal with, but they don’t give you permission to be shitty in fandom.

No, “people can care about more than one thing” doesn’t fly either because fictional characters cannot thank you for protecting them from a creepy adult.

Aaaaand no, “some pedo freak might use it to convince a child this is okay” doesn’t work either because that’s the fault of the predator misusing the material, not the material itself or its creator (unless the predator made it, then it’s still the predator’s fault!)

I don’t care how vile someone’s fiction is because I pay attention to how they treat real people. If someone who makes gross fiction does gross things to real people, I’ll judge them based on how gross they are to real people.

You can write wholesome, sweet, cute stories, but if you’re vile to real people, you are a vile person. Period.

Fictional characters can hold meaning to us. There are characters you don’t want to see or think about in a sexual way, and that is fine.

What isn’t fine is prioritizing them over real people.

Fandom antis have a body count and a track record of being horrible at real people to protect fictional characters, but ohhhh noooo they claim they’re the good ones who are here to keep fandom safe.

Yeah, right... 🙄

Real people matter, fictional characters are just actors or ink.

Get the fuck out if you won’t tell the difference. Everybody is sick of you.

[batarangsoundsdumb]

guess fucking what? my inbox is so fucking full right now i'm unloading all of this shit in one post.

For the 11th gotham memes: gothamites react to bruce being jacked in a tiktok he made with kids, like super yoked, ripped as hell

fucking hilarious thanks. i think i did it in one meme post, but i genuinely don't remember which one

i dunno which of the batfam would do this but one time i was sleeping over at a friends house and ended up on the floor bc the bed was so very small and i just stayed there because the rug was soft

that's a drunk jason move i don't know what to tell you

tim and jason are "i listen to pop punk" solidarity. whenever jason highjacks the batmobile theyll go on long ass car rides blaring mcr and paramore and then never talk about it again

as they should!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! tim: no jason it's my turn using the aux cord i gotta put on my jams jason: don't you dare put on weird shit tim: don't worry, you're gonna love this *plays fearless (taylor's version)

hear me out hear me out, red hood stans 🤝 nightwing stans t h i g h s

holy shit yes.

SNL au: Bruce breaks character when pretending to superman and says something like "I'm not superman! You've seen his gps!! It's from 2001!!!" @sabeanybabe

superman flies past the snl building the next day just to say 'actually it's from 2005, i'm not a heathen'

does your back hurt from carrying the batfam fandom

it hurts more from the exotic rock collection i keep in my backpack, but thanks for the concern.

I love your posts by why would you always leave the best parts in the tags?

as a treat for the people that check the tags ;) (and also because i'm committed to the short post aesthetic)

somehow your playlist was everything i never knew i needed. i mean it. this is my new favorite playlist.

and don't you dare get a new favourite playlist!

babe ur stoner tim playlist is exactly too perfect, earth is literally blessed by ur existence

babe thanks so much! i love my stoner tim playlist because it's just my usual playlist but people think it's an artistic choice that i put taylor swift and britney spears in there, when it's just what i unironically like listening to

JANDKSKDK BILLY RAY CYRUS ON THE STONER TIM PLAYLIST I LOVE IT IT

again it's not even an ironic choice, i know every single word and i genuinely like the song

The last chapter of Fundamentals of Casework has me crying at work. Thanks I love it @dudelookitsalesbian

oh babe, i'm sorry, but also, not sorry i love chapter 4 so much it's my lovechild with the 'mental illness' tag

soooo....stumbled on your tumblr by some stroke of fate??? read your DC fanfic first. which is PHENOMENAL btw. then found all the batmemes; the funniest thing EVER bc everyone forgets about regular old gothamites. kept scrolling and your blog pops up as recommended. clicked on the ao3 for shits and giggles and waddaya know?!?!? it's YOU!!! you're LEGEND!!!! ever seen that meme? it's a video of a cat that got into a baseball field and the two announcers get really invested in his escape attempt and start giving a play by play of the cat instead of the game. memeable moment: "GREAT stuff from the Cat!!!"

i seriously think about this ask every single day and it's so fucking funny to me that i've never seen the meme you're referencing, but i still find myself going 'GREAT stuff from the Cat!!!' whenever i see something funny. but wow i'm glad you liked this steaming pile of garbage

Fav dc character overall? And fav batfamily character?

don't ask me to pick between the loves of my life, but i can tell you i've cried about every single batfamily member and also wally west (my beloved)

What's your opinion on fans having a problem with batfam being "too big"? And some even claim that batfam is just "Bruce Alfred Dick Damian" and the rest of them are just "friends and allies" (source: reddit) Personally, I like batfam because of this reason but idk

stupid. a family can never be too big. i'm not that big a fan of like huge batfam stuff with everybody from every single universe, because as much as it's funny for bruce to have like 30 kids, it just feels a little too OOC for me.

This is the best tag I've seen involving the batfam, thanks for thinking of it

This is canon now @nctxrejects

lmao yeah i think at that point alfred has had to sit through like at least a dozen coming out talks and just has a pride flag collection in the attic that he pulls out whenever a kid comes out

idk why batfam hits different as compared to any other superhero family

bc it's found family and usually the other superhero families are almost all genetically related in one way or another

I don't know if you watch the umbrella academy but I saw your last post about batcest and saw the similarities. But the thing is (although I think it's weird) in TUA, they addressed it by saying "they were raised as weapons, not siblings" or something along those lines, which is simply not the case with batfam.

yeah i watched tua but i also thought it was ridiculous and they still treated each other as siblings so i didn't like the luthor/allison thing, and am glad they stopped doing that shit bc it fucking sucked.

Hot take: Batcest shippers are the same people who believe adopted siblings are not actual siblings

smoking hot take: batcest shippers are the people who watch 'my sister got stuck in the washing machine' porn

Duke was adopted by Bruce?

not technically no, but do i, tumblr user batarangsoundsdumb, look like i care?

True story but I had to change my freaking name because it used to be "Damien" and most people would go "OH LIKE DAMIAN WAYNE" like please I'm just tryna live

true story, but i don't actually think of damian when i hear the name damian, literally the first thing that pops up is damian darkh like bruh what?

apparently dc comics company supported comic stores by giving out new titles and stuff during the beginning of the pandemic to help them run and I just think that's wholesome

ah yeah that's so fucking cool, still don't like dc, the company, because this world is a capitalist hellhole and we're all owned by warner brothers or disney with no in between.

ayo looking at tumblr head canons and finding out bruce is actually a terrible father is a punch in the gut

lmao yes, in like 50% of comics bruce is a terrible father and it gives me whiplash

oooh I just saw the jason todd vs winter soldier post and the real question is: batman vs iron man

while iron man has like hundreds of cases of armor, batman could throw out an emp and have the guy dropping out of the sky in 2 seconds.

dickfast = fastdick = quickdick = quickie

magnum hot take

hey bata(?) just thought I'd let you know I have copied the obnoxious emoji and Billy Ray post for use on simping men going forth

thank you 😘🌷 (@spacebarsidecar)

why would you do that to your followers???? i get why i did it, but why would you???

what is scarecrow made the nightwing funko pop himself, like those diy-ers that paint over other ones

oh god no, horrible take, horrible take, that's a disgusting thought oh no

I see your HC that Bruce and Oliver fucked and raise you this: Dick and Roy ALSO fucked

yes they did and it was a horrible moment for jason to find out dick has fucked both of his best friends

"at this rate bruce adds like 1 child to his family every decade or so" Duke is introduced in 2013, Damian as Damian, not as an unnamed child, in 2006. And he is already 14 years old, Robins rarely remain Robins after 16 😬 It looks like a new Robin and Batkid will appear in a couple of years

i mean i can't wait? but somebody will probably die first tho, we're due for another major character death. my money's on either cass or duke this time.

BRO you're so right all of your Bruce's ex headcanons are amazing but they aren't ships, that's kinda wild. Like I don't want any peeks into how their relationship was I just want to see everyone make fun of them

lmao YES it's just i love bruce being a slut, like good for him.

I am in love with your posts your honour thank you

omg thanks are we like,, gonna kiss now?

The justice league needs to have a meeting to discuss how many of their members/partners have slept with bruce. Because through a combination of cannon & fannon (if DC wasn’t homophobic) we have AT LEAST: 1) clark 2) lois 3) oliver 4) dinah 5) john

Thats not counting villains or random civilians @dudelookitsalesbian

yes yes yes, they'll have a yearly meeting about how many of their collective exes could be out for revenge and batman's list just keeps getting longer.

tim was like "i'm drake now" and everyone was like ahh so your fursona is a dragon and tim was like pffffft no. ducks.

and what about it?

when steph's fighting livewire and she zaps her with lighting and nothing happens and then they both just. stand there awkwardly for a second and talk. yeah i couldn't stop laughing at that batgirl steph is the BEST

oh yeah that was fucking hilarious and i think it would be so cool and sexy of dc to give steph a little comic series,,, as a treat

Hi I absolutely adore all of yours "Bruce and Oliver very badly pretending they didn't fuck each other" memes

lmao i do too

I need you to know that “Bruce Wayne had frosted tips” is one of my favorite Bruce takes of all time it’s so galaxy brained. you’re right and you should say it

he also painted his hair blonde once when he was travelling and in conclusion, this is why he's being blackmailed by the gotham gazette.

you know my thing about gordon being branded as the only good cop in gotham is its a load of shit like arguably he's a good person and not working to screw people over or anything but the fact that he also works w. batman makes him a shit cop. like yea batman is better than the mob but its still illegal its still an abuse of power he just not making bank

babe, all cops are bad cops. (but yeah youre absolutely right, working with vigilantes makes you a shit cop, but also working against vigilantes just makes you an asshole cop yanno?)

ruh roh i think i’m about to add “so not yeehaw” every time i don’t like something

that's a very good vocabulary upgrade

somehow i feel like steph already knew. like babs obviously knew but i feel like bruce got high/drunk in front of steph and started telling his boarding school stories and steph was just like “oh you fucked up i’m never gonna forget this”

steph and bruce have weird uncle/rebellious niece dynamic and they just hang out sometimes and bruce will be like 'i once broke my arm when i tripped over a hedge when i was drunk so oliver drove me to the hospital on an electric scooter' and steph will just have to sit there with that knowledge in her head.

Hello I just wanted to tell you you are So right in all your steph opinions bc she is, in fact amazing and I think that's very sexy of you. Ps. Your Bruce/Oliver fic is hilarious

babe, thank you so much and yes steph is amazing and i love her and she deserves the world and she's the best member of the batfam hands down. also thanks

In Supersons we see a couple of kids that are implied to be Damian and Jon's children and the boy has laser eyes and can fly, so I asume he's not adopted. The girl, who calls Bruce grandpa, can also fly, btw. So it's canon (probably by accident) that Jon can have kids and he must have married one of Bruce's kids. (I'm hoping for Damian, mostly because any other of his children would be waaaaaaaaaaaaay too old.) @artemisa97

lmao that was probably an accident seeing as jon is a 17 year old superhero in the year 3000 (by the jonas brothers)

You know, I'm a die hard fan of your memes, but I gotta say one thing: if Gothamites actually took gas mask everywhere with them, then the Scarecrow would just be a weird dude in a weird costume, and not a villain oh so scary. DC really should just takes notes from you.

bold of you to assume there's no gothamite anti-maskers

How does it feel being the funniest person on this app?

horrible, next question.

I can't listen to Green Day or Billy Joel without thinking of your post about how Bruce got arrested at a Billy Joel concert @nightwings-kid

yeah that's your mistake, i on the other hand can't enjoy billy joel without thinking about the glee rendition of 'uptown girl'

I've FINALLY been watching the Batman animated series and I gotta say, after watching "the gray ghost" I am CONVINCED that Batman is a closeted super hero geek who was 100% freaking out the first time he met Superman and is just REALLY good at hiding it.

superman: so what do you do in your free time? batman, thinking about the superman fanfiction he's writing on the batcomputer: i have no free time

bruce and oliver be like boyfriends to co-workers 401k (do the justice leagues get 401ks??? not that bruce and ollie would need them, but-)

lmao yes just 400 thousand words of bruce realising 'oh dip oliver is such a fucking dumbass' (also i don't know what a 401 k is but i assume they don't?)

Gothamites would totally boo superman as he saves Gotham while batman is out. @meenje

he's like 'okay think about that next time you want to be saved from an alien octopus'

I just took long break from dc comics and I come back to see ric grayson ??

i think it's very cool and sexy of dc to see dick and just think 'you know what? let's just give him a traumatic brain injury' and then didn't develop his character in any real way

SPEAKING OF RIC GRAYSON, gothamites making confused memes out of ric grayson is much needed

'dick grayson is my taxi driver? can anyone explain what the fuck happened he looks like an italian plumber?'

i hate to say it but batfam are def "marvel characters" in that sense they are characters who are human but become superheroes unlike most dc characters who are gods trying to be human maybe this is why I like batfam

fair enough

[mushroom-cartel--writing]

begrudging (love-)blindness

Summary: You are, to him, unquestionably, terrifyingly lovely.

Relationship(s): Gojo Satoru & Reader, Gojo Satoru/Reader

Note(s):

Here’s the link to read this on AO3! (You know the drill, extra tags, different notes, the format I intended, etc.)

Personally, I think this is hot garbage in terms of structure and pacing (it’s loosely all strung together is what I’m saying, but I just needed to get it off my chest before I wrote anything else. Yet... I guess I had fun? Yeah. I did!

There's spoilers from the manga mixed with headcanon.

I still hate spacing and formatting on Tumblr, it sucks. Please, please, please, this is for your own good, click the AO3 link, this fic is such an eyesore on this platform.

|||

There’s a tug at your chest, sending you hurtling backwards and into something hard. A wall. Tiles. Smooth.

The heavens and the earth view one another through a layer of haze of light at night.

There are thousands of people gathering, their footsteps thundering echoes in your ears. Their chatter is a constant hum in the air. It stinks of sweat.

(“The train will be arriving soon. Please stand behind the yellow line—”)

You sigh.

“Dammit, Satoru! A little warning would be nice,” you hiss to the man. You hear him whisper something back but his voice is swallowed up by the crowds and then he, too, is consumed.

You feel him wander farther away from you; not left with much choice, you follow him. And down, down, down you go.

You pause when there’s an invisible wall blocking your path of his own making. “Hey!!” you shout, starting to scream expletives at him from the top of his lungs and he doesn’t look back.

A few seconds pass. The people, these poor, clueless civilians who just want to go home for the night are like sardines in a can, their bodies pushing and shoving. For space. For air. Requiring neither, you phase through the wall and the remaining levels to catch up to him, the thoughts going through your head solely focused on figuring out why he has let you out. He wouldn’t do something like this without warning you beforehand.

Why now? What now?

You pull out from the shadowed cracks of the feeble curtain set up along the fifth floor underground, suddenly feeling a heaviness you hardly ever experience. You run a cursory swipe over his teeth; the blood in the air is fresh, there are more civilians down here than up above, more sardine-ing (their presence is fading away, the above platforms’ panicked din becomes extinguished, it’s ghastly quiet, a moment frozen in time), but no Satoru. Not physically.

He loves you, you know. (You don’t understand though… Why?)

It’s a burden, draining you of what vigour is left in your soul, barely just clinging on to this plane itself.

His love is a curse in itself, really.

"I don't want you to see me hurt," he had said often, back when you were children, oblivious to the power of those words until you got older.

What they meant.

What they did—to him and you.

Still as the wind, you stand together, hands brushing up against each other's, your fingers infected with poison where his is not; the calloused skin and scars shared between you weaving a tale for the ages that will never be told.

You’re both nineteen at heart but certainly not in spirit.

You lean against him, completely unseen, waiting for him to flick his finger back.

Waiting for him to obliterate the first person he thought he could trust outside.

He doesn’t. You disappear for another time, expectant.

His love is a burden and you're not sure where you would be without it.

If he hadn't looked your way, would you be the same person you are today?

It's frightening, these thoughts of yours, but he usually chases them off when he senses them bubbling to the surface. (You want him to be annoyed.) A casual grin and stance, a flick of his wrist, a rush of wind by your side, then the phantom pressure is gone, yes, gone, however—it's never banished completely. It never can be.

You don't remember the colour of his eyes but there's a memory of you claiming they looked like marbles, buried somewhere (somehow), in the back of your mind. Like the marbles you'd smash glass bottles to obtain, their fizzy contents only drained seconds beforehand; stubby, sticky, small fingers sorting through the shards, squashing ants in the process.

Those very same fingers, now, haven't changed a bit, save for the chipped nails and whatnot duress they’ve sustained throughout his life.

You use them to push the blindfold up to his forehead, taking in the surrounding sights.

Why now? The fact that you can feel them, his fingers and everything else—that’s a bad sign. A very bad sign.

You breathe, inflating the faux lungs.

Finally, you see it. The reason why you’re walking and talking and fully corporeal.

You gulp at the living corpse, its stitches wonky and fresh. Cerebrospinal fluid spills from its face in fat droplets and lands upon the clothes of a dead man. Disgusting.

“So I was right in the end,” you say, more for yourself than anyone else. “You’re not Suguru.”

(Satoru owes you a thousand yen. You told him to burn the body immediately. Or, you know, the usual. But what’d he do instead? He went and passed it off to a third party! Man, why’d that old hag have to kick the bucket so soon… If she was still around she’d probably kick Satoru’s dumb ass for trying to be decent.)

“How are you free?” Not-Suguru asks.

The real Suguru wouldn’t ask about your appearance. He would make a comment about how the temperature has dropped and burrow into his collar. He wouldn’t question things.

The real Suguru never acknowledged you, but he knew there was something in the corner of his eye that took the image of his friend and laughed alongside them when they pulled their antics during missions.

The real Suguru is gone.

Who the hell knows where Shouko is.

Yeah. A little warning would have been nice. Real fucking nice.

There’s a cube with a dozen eyes between the two of you, the crater on the ground betrays its unassuming weight. Satoru’s muted presence, a shrunken pearl of light, emanates from the cube.

Not-Suguru follows your line of sight to it.

Giving him an answer would be a waste of your time.

You can’t, they say.

Young master, please, don’t go there, implores the servants and guards.

The elders, his grandmother especially, tell him not to enter the storehouse tucked away in the garden behind an avenue of camellia trees because that’s something they’ll discuss when he’s older.

He doesn’t listen to them, the curiosity of a three-year-old child cannot be satisfied by mere words. (“Let this be known,” the gardener says in his defense, one cold summer’s day. It is raining outside. His grandmother shoots the only person in the compound that doesn’t treat him like a blind fool with a withering glare. He does not see them again until—)

What’s in the storehouse?

A library of cursed objects? Spiritual remnants, artefacts, texts, poisons, weapons?

Maybe the mummified corpse of an ancestor whom they keep around to ward off evil?

Perhaps a curse, frozen in time forevermore?

Maybe it’s nothing and the adults are all in on some kind of elaborate hoax, he figures. Mm, yeah. Sounds about right. No one else knows about the storehouse.

It’s old and earthen. Wild plants curl the walls to one side and splotches of moss grow on the tiled roof. Where the sun hits least is pristine. Clean. He wonders if that’s where the wards are placed, out of sight, out of mind.

Oh.

Standing in the entrance of the open door with bare feet, at the threshold of the aged structure, fulfilling his desire, he learns why they wanted him to remain ignorant.

It’s a child. (A human…? This whole situation is off.) A kid his age. He can’t tell whether or not they’re older or younger. They might be a bit taller, though.

No, he wants to shout, this can’t be it! He stomps his foot. That’s cliché! Boring, boring, boring! Again, he strikes the ground. Ugh, whatever—

A sigh escapes the emaciated figure sitting in the darkness, hunched over themself against the wall of the bare storehouse.

“Ah, my f̶̥̍r̵̝͐̏i̷̳end,” they start, softly. “M̶̹̦͒y̸͍̮̋̚ f̸͉̓̋r̴͇̦̕ǐ̴̦͇e̵̫͠n̷̢͉̅̓ḍ̸̅, my very dear, old friend. You have returned.

“My e̷̳̭̿y̶͈͂e̷͔̭̎͘s̴̭̄̊, have you come to give them back? Ask for several others?

“I have waited for you, as promised. Come. Closer. Please. I do not know how long has passed since I last gazed upon your visage. Do not be afraid.

“I no longer lust for flesh as fervently as before, I will not ask of y̸͖͔̒o̵̳̍u̵͍̘̓ ą̴͕̈́n̵̫̓d̸̛̳͛ y̵̻͑̎o̵̖̥͒͌ų̴͋̐r̵̦̩̓s a sacrifice to please me.”

Their voice is garbled, the resemblance to a broken radio off-pitch jarring his reaction time, a music box opened underwater gurgling, ghosts beat to the rhythm of the blood in his ears and titter buried mysteries.

In the corner of his eyes distant stars burn, galaxies explode to life and die repeatedly, the vast cosmos is shredded apart. Universes are swallowed whole. The plane he stands upon bends to the will of the one whose gifts he uses carelessly to play the role of a deity and dictate the balance of the world.

People have said [they] reflect the very heavens.

His faith wanes.

.

a trio of ragtag orphans,

escapees, survivors and starved,

on the verge of being

no better than beasts,

happen upon a traveller taking respite from the winding roads.

a foreigner no doubt

they guess from the strange hued garb;

rest, everyone around these parts,

they know comes not

easy to scum, scoundrels, sinners and

deceivers alike.

.

.

.

mad ones, rushing to death

—without protection i must add—

oh my darling children, you are!

consume my flesh,

defend those unseeing,

purge the blight

and you shall witness

my return before long, indeed?!

.

They do not move and neither does he.

What he assumes to be their head tilts ever so to the side, gauging him, this fool of a boy trespassing on their domain. This part of the garden, the little boy realises too late, is theirs.

This, the storehouse and now him.

(—the gardener finds him sprawled out on his back come dusk. They help him to his feet and dust him off, the sparkle in his eyes an unusual occurrence; they ask their precious young master what happened and he points them in the direction of the doors sealed shut.

“I took a peek inside,” he lies. Children are supposed to do that, right?

“And what did you find?”

“Nothing.” The gardener knows he’s a bad liar.

“Good. Now come.” They lead him away from the path of the camellias. “Lady Mitsue has been beside herself over you, mister.”

His grandmother hasn’t. She probably knows what he has done and will instruct him to feed the council what they want to hear. My son was too soft, she asserts before and after every meeting with those windbags.

You have to do better.

And his father is dead, so only time will tell who’s right.)

He starts having weird dreams (memories?) several days later.

Trying to ignore them doesn’t work.

Every waking moment is subject to gore.

He has to resist the urge to scratch his own eyes out while he trains.

In the world beneath his eyelids, there are shadowy figures claiming it best he is blinded and locked away and fed what no other soul could hope to consume without issue. And just as they force open his jaw—every night, every time—he wakes up.

Satoru doesn’t know what to make of it. Doesn’t know what to make of you.

One day, he dreams of years of living without sunlight causing you to screw your not-eyes shut and look away upon the opening of a door into your domain. When you recover, you turn to the door, the emotion of curiosity tugging for your attention out of the myriad of beings you’ve eaten.

Standing at the threshold, ethereal, desperate and short of breath, is a young man. In his arms is a woman, his wife, you presume. They’re stark shades of white, binary stars of a celestial system long dead.

You smile, recognising them in an instant. “Ah, my old friends, children of my children’s children a dozen times over, tell me, what is it you wish for?”

“My wife and our child,” says the man, “please, I beg of you, save them!”

Oh? A healing? It’s been quite some time since that was last requested of you.

You skitter to the pair’s side and shut the door gently behind them, ushering them further in.

You click your not-tongue at the woman’s state, wondering why no one thought to come to you earlier. If they did, the price they’d have to pay would be much less than what you’re about to tell the man. Humans are such prideful creatures, Satoru knows this, but he can’t help but feel tense as you instruct the man to lay the woman down and state your cost.

First, he opens his mouth. Then it shuts. Opens. Shuts. The man regards his dear wife with something Satoru has never seen before in the eyes of those around him.

His reply?

“I accept—”

A harsh smack to the head disrupts the memory; he looks up, unsurprised to meet his grandmother’s gaze, wrinkled eyes so very much like his own piercing his soul.

“Being distracted in the middle of a fight is unbecoming of you, boy,” she says. “What seems to be the matter?”

He can’t tell her.

He stays silent.

“Satoru.” She raises her hand, fingers crossed, indicating the void’s opening. “We Gojou pride ourselves on our ability to adapt. That is why, in fact, I say my son was too soft. He could not accept that he would lose my daughter-in-law and the child she carried in her womb to common illness. He could not accept that it was impossible to cheat death. He could not accept the position he was placed in. And for that, he died and of the aforementioned two, only you lived. Do you understand?”

No. He doesn’t want to understand.

What is adaptation if they’ve yet to rid themselves of and bow down to your constant presence? Is that not their most fatal flaw?

You eat them.

One life in exchange for another; you told his father it was the only way.

You were given the corpse of his mother a hundred days after his birth by the elders.

Every Gojou after death, you grind their bones between your teeth and their flesh rots at the bottom of your belly. Their soulful essence fights for dominance against the forces of the innumerable curses the clans feeds you—the hate, the sentiment, the sheer bursts of techniques and mighty powers clashing, click, click, click—you embody and absorb the aftermath of each childish scuffle, playing the bored jailer adjudicator. Corpses, tools, objects, energy and flesh. It’s how you’ve lived for so long without light or human thought to taint you: the jujutsu world’s dirty little secret, waste disposal.

You are, to him, unquestionably, terrifyingly lovely.

He loves you for that one reason.

A means to an end, forever.

(The boy, a few days shy of his fourth birthday and inauguration, does not know what love is. He thinks he does, having read the definition in a dictionary in order to familiarise you with modern speech, but love is not a word to be thrown around lightly the way he does.)

“I do,” he lies again, this time, to himself. “I understand everything.”

His sight is black.

He pushes back against the current, against instinct telling him to relinquish control and reaches forward for the dream that he was ripped from.

Your true form towers over his mother’s prone form, dripping ichor and the fluid of loose entrails all over. His father stays seated even when you lift an arm to draw blood, the man facing you without a trace of fear.

“I accept—but on the condition that my child receives your protection.”

“My p̶̹̽r̴̽ͅo̵̠͐ť̷̬e̶̺̊c̶̻̒t̷̙͑i̵̮̓o̶̱n̷̖͂?” Do they not teach the younger generations what that entails?

“Yes. My ancestors wrote that you were a benevolent being in a past life. That you were a kind-hearted human who accidentally drank poison before being found and buried alive, condemned and reviled, forcing you to become what you are now. Does that still not hold true?” His father’s face is hopeful.

It doesn’t. But who are you to tell him that? That ‘benevolent being’ never existed in the first place. You’ve always been this.

The vivisepulture part was true, but the beginning? Debatable. Your memories of ‘being human’ are foggy; you’re not sure if they’re real or someone else’s. Satoru’s is the clearest thus far because you abide within him. And he’s young, there’s little to garner.

What other nonsense has been made truth in the time you have withdrawn from the world?

He wants to go down that rabbit hole.

You grab the cube and run, warping reality in your wake.

You are many things.

Alive, you are first; secondly a parent, a teacher and a friend; cursed thrice times over; quarter something-something or rather by this point; and last, your hollowness complements the damned hallowed.

You are Gojou Satoru but not.

His skin peels off in delicate scales from the speed you’re going.

The first and last time you puppeteer his body, Satoru invokes his father’s contract with you for the second time in his life.

Like the first occurrence, it happens by accident.

(The first occurrence is a stain on your memory.

Mitsue looked her grandson in the eye and tasked him with a futile quest, one that would decide the future headship of their clan. You personally thought such practices outdated but you held his tongue and grit his teeth, faking laughter for the audience they had.

She reminded you too much of your youngest, both in the way she cobbled herself together and how she suspended time long enough to catch a glimpse of you hunched beside him, flickering in and out of her void domain with the ease of a toddler climbing free of their crib.

Beautiful and deadly.

He nearly died.)

He is unaware of the finer details, but where his consciousness ends at getting a scalpel to head, it rouses again with him standing before the man who has the blood of Satoru’s friends on his hands and left him to bleed out undecapitated.

On a high from escaping Izanami’s clutches, he sprouts math and whatever nonsense off the top of his head and ragdolls up, down, across and through the air.

He feels like a being higher than the gods. Doesn’t mean he is, though.

He’s barely in control.

Violent swashes of red and blue fill the sky. He sees beyond his opponent rising from the earth the heavens condemning his breaching unto their space.

“Hey, stranger, did you know purple was her favourite colour?”

“Whose?”

|

“Satoru.”

“Hm?”

“You are Satoru, right?”

“Yessssss?”

“You… you’ve got a bit of…” Suguru gestures vaguely around the lower half of his face.

“Oh.” You rub the corner of his mouth with the pad of his thumb and see it come back tinged pink. The drying drool on his sleeves is used to rub the rest of the blood away. “Thanks.”

“Have you found her?”

“Amanai? Her body?” Suguru flinches. Your gaze is drawn to the cultists clapping. “Yeah, I did. Sorry.”

“What are you apologising for?”

“I don’t know,” Satoru says. “I feel like killing these people. Should we?”

“Why?”

“I’m still h̸͓̟͐u̴̦͗n̴͇͈̅͛g̵͔̒̕ŗ̴͕͂͘y̸͚͍͘͘.” Two wasn’t even a snack.

“I’m angry that we failed too. But we can’t do anything now, it’s out of our hands.”

|

Several days later finds him back at the entrance of the storehouse, none the worse for wear.

In the shadow of the building grows a lone weed.

“It’s changed.”

“Of course it has.”

“Will I end up like them?”

“Yes.”

[julieandthefandoms]

Best Day Of Our Lives

A Jemma wedding fic featuring a Kitty reunion, married with children Kierartina, and Haline being cute together. It can also be found here on AO3 :) 

Also, a thank you to Kaitlin, @ineedadrinkorsleep, for allowing me to use her list of Kierartina baby names, you’re amazing!

Tagging @katie33333 @tessagraycarstairs @zafirafox4636 @fairchild-squad @lily-chen-deserves-better @ineedadrinkorsleep @older-brother-kit because I have a tag list now!

Julian straightened the collar of the suit. It was bright in shade, a thing of fire and gold. It was the kind of fire so bright it almost seemed to hold no color at all, leaving the shimmering runes custom to shadowhunter weddings to almost compete with the brightness of it. It was blinding, and Julian could admire the craftsmanship of the suit, tailored to near perfection. Julian could care less about the flashiness of the suit though. It wouldn’t matter whether he were wearing jeans, or even were covered in paint splatters. What mattered was that he was getting married to his best friend, Emma Carstairs.

For the longest time, he was sure he wouldn’t have this opportunity. He had thought he had sealed his fate on that day in Idris. The day after the Dark War, when he had asked the person he loved to be his parabatai. He was prepared to live a life of unrequited love, but by some stroke of luck, he was getting married to her. The bond had been broken, and they could be together. He could be happy.

A pang went through him as he thought back to those days, back when Livvy was still with them. She would've been wild with excitement to be there, to have planned it to perfection. Julian was almost surprised that the pain hadn’t dwindled over time, but there was still an ache as he thought of her. The feeling of loss never truly fades. He had enough space in his heart to love Emma, while still hurting from the loss of his sister.

Julian tugged at the bottom of the jacket once more.

“You look lovely, Jules.” He turned to spot his sister, Helen Penhallow Blackthorn, his suggenes, leaning against the doorframe, a bright smile on her face. She herself was dressed in a flowing gown barely brushing against the top of the floor. “We should probably get going though, you wouldn’t want to be late to your own wedding.”

~^*^~

Kit Herondale should have known better. It was bound to happen really, he was definitely pushing his luck after about the second or third wedding he’d been to, but he hadn’t expected it to be so sudden. It had all started earlier that year, when virtually every friend of Jem and Tessa’s had collectively decided to destroy Kit’s life, a simple one of sneaking Mina extra cookies and avoiding his problems, by forcing him to face all his problems at their weddings. And currently, he was faced with the person he was avoiding most.

Kit had somehow managed to skate by during most of the weddings though. Simon and Isabelle’s was first, Kit having managed to stay as close to the crowd as possible, and silently slipping away after the main portion of the ceremony to reduce his chances of getting involved in a rather awkward discussion. Only a few months had passed before Clary and Jace got married as well, Kit glimpsing a head of dark hair before bolting as soon as he could, claiming that he had to take care of Mina. In fact, what was doing was hiding in the library, pouring his heart out to his little sister.

“You’d think after 3 years my heart would stop beating so rapidly that I became concerned about my own health, but no,” Kit glanced at Mina, who was currently laughing at him, eyes half shut from joy.

She let out another giggle.

“How dare you find joy in my pain?” he said, dramatically laying a hand on his head and leaning back against the bookshelf, though the smile illuminating his face revealed his true intentions. “How can I go on now, betrayed by my own sister?”

Kit smiled at the thought.

Kieran, Mark, and Cristina’s wedding had been somewhat more challenging, him having been caught behind a huge oak tree by none other than Livvy Blackthorn, but he had somehow managed to convince her to tell no one, i.e. her twin brother, a.k.a. the person Kit was trying so desperately to avoid.

“Please, Livvy, don’t tell him I’m here,” Kit was pleading now, already on his knees, gazing up at the ghost above him.

Livvy rolled her eyes. “Fine, but only because I want you to do this on your terms. Remember though, my ship must be canon!”

“Your what?!-”

And that finally brought them up to this wedding, Emma and Julian’s to be more specific. Having been related to, however distant that relation may be, the bride had seemingly got the Herondale/Gray/Carstairs family (or as Kit liked to call it, the Herongraystairs family) a one way ticket to the wedding, and consequently, Kit facing the person he was dreading to meet again.

It had been going relatively well, he’d thought, the ceremony about to begin, and Kit quietly tucked into a corner. That was until Mina dragged him towards the table piled high with drinks, having spotted Max Lightwood-Bane, Rafael Lightwood-Bane, Tavvy Blackthorn, Gianna Blackthorn-Rosales, and Nico Blackthorn-Rosales (Cristina, Mark, and Kieran had Gianna and Nico a year before being married, and Mina instantly fell for them, claiming that they were her “best fwends”) playing near there, and Kit had thought maybe a drink or two wouldn’t hurt. He was severely wrong of course as Kit had failed to notice one head of dark hair standing not far from that very table.

Kit blamed Mina’s doe eyes, and his ability to fall for them instantly.

After his first drink, a voice had made Kit turn, causing him to end up where he was currently, nearly on the floor.

“Hello. I’d like to talk to you.”

~*^*~

Julian was bubbling with joy, a smile brightening his face as he was led to a platform, Helen by his side. He stopped at the top of the steps, turning to give Helen an appreciative nod and a smile. Julian took a sharp inhale as Emma walked around the corner, Cristina lending her off to the stage. All thoughts left him. She was breathtaking, wrapped in a gold silk gown that hugged her waist before flaring down to the ground. A sheer overlay on the silk skirt caught the brightness of the witchlight, complimenting the gold in her hair.

But it wasn’t only gold, was it? It was a beautiful mix of cadmium yellows, naples yellows, golds, yellow ochres.

She was beautiful, and Julian couldn’t help but think that he was the luckiest person in the world. As Emma reached the platform, she leaned in, a grin plastered on her face.

“I know, I look stunning.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder in a playful manner.

Julian shot back a nod. “It is your wedding, I’d expect no less.”

And with that, the ceremony began, Brother Enoch reciting a few words, before steles appeared in their hand. It passed by in a blur, and before Julian knew it, they were kissing. Time seemed to still, Julian thought he heard a crash somewhere in the crowd, a flash of blond hair blurring by the table, but he paid no attention to it. The room melted away, it was as though they, Emma and Julian, were the only two people in the room. It was perfect.

~*^*~

“HOLY-” Kit choked on his drink. He had forgotten how graceful shadowhunters were, how easily they could move without alerting anyone surrounding them. Unfortunately, that shadowhunter grace had apparently skipped a generation because Kit found himself clutching at the table for support, having nearly fallen from shock.

“Are you alright?” It was none other than Tiberius Nero Blackthorn, his arm outstretched. He was looking at him, and at that moment, all rational thought left him. He said something roughly equivalent to an audible keysmash before clearing his throat.

“Yeah, I’m alright,” Kit brushed himself off, standing up as though nothing had happened. If you pretend to be confident, it won’t be long until you begin to feel confident as well. For the first time since the wedding fiasco began, he actually looked at Ty. He was taller now, Kit was surprised to see, though he supposed he shouldn’t have. Three years did a lot to change someone, he supposed, but those eyes were the same. A beautiful yet deadly storm churning above a sea. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

Kit leaned against the table once more, this time a bit more suave and cool, and less panicky than the first.

“Why are you avoiding me?” It was a simple question, clear as day. Kit choked up a bit. “And why did you leave?”

All of a sudden, he was fifteen again, doing anything he could for Ty, the beautiful shadowhunter that had held a knife to his throat. The nephilim he would have done anything for. Years of suppressing his emotions didn’t prepare Kit for this moment, he doubted anything could have. Ty looked calm enough, but his hands were frantically twisting and unknotting a ball of pipe cleaners. He was nervous, Kit knew it, and so Kit blurted it out. He never could have told Ty a lie, even if he wanted to. Even after three years.

“Because I was hurt, and I was running away from what had happened,” Kit took a deep breath, as Ty nodded, understanding it. Kit, suspecting he was going to turn away, proceeded to continue talking, hoping to get a laugh, a smile, anything out of Ty. “Tessa thinks it was the Herondale dramatics though.”

Kit didn’t add the second part of what she said, “Running away from the person you love ‘for their own good’ is alarmingly common among Herondales,” but Ty let out a laugh, bright and brilliant, so it was a win in Kit’s book.

It was an amazing laugh, low and lovely, beautiful to hear.

“Tessa knows Herondales well.”

“She does.”

The silence stretched on for a moment, though it was a comfortable one. A silence in which both parties simply enjoyed the presence of the other.

The soft piano finally registered in Kit’s mind. A crazy idea formed in his head, one his fifteen year old self would banish to the darkest corners of his brain.

“May I have this dance?”

Turned out he wasn’t the only one to have that idea, Kit thought as he accepted Ty’s hand. An impish grin spread across Kit’s face.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

~*^*~

Soft music began playing from the piano in the corner, Jace Herondale shooting a wink at Helen as she rolled her eyes at his antics. A smile rested upon her face, as Helen looked at her brother and Emma, both beaming joy, foreheads together as they swayed to the music. It was so genuine, and beautiful, she couldn’t stop grinning even if she wanted to. She’d already missed so much of her family’s life, exiled on Wrangel Island, that she was glad to be here, sharing this moment with them.

And how lovely it was, gold decorations pinned to the walls, tables lined with dishes and drinks. Kieran, Mark, and Cristina were on the sides, cooing at their third child, Emelia, an adorable baby girl born only a few months ago. Helen spotted Ty dancing with Kit by the drink table, both blissfully unaware of the children bouncing about close to them. Dru was at the center of the ballroom with Jaime Rosales, gown flaring as she was spun.

Aline leaned into her, resting her head upon Helen’s shoulder. She was stunning, in a wine red gown with glittering gold accents, dark hair brushing against her back. Helen couldn’t stop but think about how lucky she was, to have someone so beautiful, so wonderful.

“Young love, it’s beautiful isn’t it?”

Her wife was most certainly correct, and Helen agreed wholeheartedly.

“It really is.”

[youarejesting]

My fics in 2020

I am proud of this year. I worked hard until the end. 2020 was my year of finishing my stories. I have done so much and next year I want to do more. So keep an eye out Jester will take over.

Fandom(s): BTS, mentions of NCT, BLACKPINK, MONSTA X.

Networks:@btscreatorscorner @castlebangtan

Total Fics: 34

Total chapters: 404

Total Words: 565,587 Total vids and fake subs: 13 

Best and Worst Title?

Best: ‘Music is the spark that sets my soul on fire’ and its sequel ‘Dance is the celebration of the flame’

Worst: The Check Up

Best and Worst first line?

Best: Yoongi never understood why people would say one's blood is important. (Mania)

Worst: It all started in Mykonos. (Steal my sunshine)

Best and Worst ending line?

Best: “I got you this pretty dress” Seokjin grinned showing you the dress before hugging you and giving your forehead a kiss, “Let’s go burn it” (Me & the ghost in number 23)

Worst: But all you got was a sharp-toothed smile. (Pandemonium)

Looking back, did you write more fics than you thought you would this year, less than, or about what was expected?

I think I wrote what I expected, but I think I could have definitely finished more. Which is a bit upsetting.

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted last year? 

I don’t have limitations to my writing so nothing is deemed unpredictable.

I am however generally surprised by my love of throwing in twists and also gore, I love gore.

What’s your favorite story this year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you the happiest.

Wild space: it is strange because I am not particularly a fan of space and scifi, but I am really into writing world building things and having the ability to create a whole planet was amazing.

Most popular story? 

Tumblr:

Seoulmates

Femme

Quarantine

AO3: 

Quarantine

BTS365

Love Listening

Story most underappreciated by the universe? 

Tiny Tan: Limited Edition

Story that could have been better? 

All

Sexiest story?

 Love Listening

Saddest story? 

 Me & the ghost in number 23

Fluffiest story? 

Mall Santa

Most fun story? 

BTS Among Us 

Hardest story to write? 

Kisaeng

Daylight (i'm still writing it haha)

Easiest/most fun story to write? 

Light it up

What story took the longest?

365 lol took all year

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them? 

The biggest risk I took all year was posting my work. Living life on the edge.

What are your fic writing goals for next year? 

To double my writing

Fics that you wrote in 2020:

BTS365: 365 mini stories ✓ fluff, comedy, angst, romance, mature, action, adventure, smut. This has it all. Find your birthday and read your story. I wanted to give something unique to people.

Quarantine: 100 Chapters ✓ Something to accompany you while you are alone during quarantine and the pandemic. I was lonely and I figured so was everyone else. So, I decided to have BTS help us all go on an adventure that didn’t focus on the covid virus but on some other aspects around it.

Femme: 50 Chapters ✓ A futuristic world where women are rare. This was an indulgement fic that gave circumstances for the reader to be in a polyamorous relationship with the boys and live a glamorous life. Ending was a bit rushed.

Seoulmates: 29 (ongoing) Each member of BTS has a unique soulmate bond. I love the idea of this, another indulgent fic but you aren’t alone with the boys you have friends and you can play different parts.

Witching: 11 Chapter ✓ When your brother goes missing trying to find them gets you in a turf war between two covens. This fic was actually a way for me to vent for a project I wanted to complete but the project is so big that I wrote this instead.

Herb: 2 Parts ✓ mature, smut. Jimin claims he has everything you need, he doesn’t disappoint. I came across this idea within the 365’s and extended it because I liked the idea so much. Jimin has everything from casseroles to scarfes, cat food to cell phone chargers and the reader just wants to be loved and relieve stress.

Limited Edition: 10 Chapters ✓ BTS boys are sold as limited edition figurines. This was originally me venting about not having any merch and then became a daydream that what if the merch came alive. And the story was born.

BTS Among Us: 7 Chapters ✓ gore, action, adventure, scifi, angst, death of main characters. This one was so funny for me, I had my friend pick a colour and that was the imposter from the start. I was amazed that no one figured it out in the end. I want to play again soon.

Light it up: 13 Chapters ✓ fluff, comedy, angst, romance, mature, action, adventure. This was inspired by the dynamite trailer, I loved it so much that I began writing, I had no clear direction but as I wrote it started to shape and someone said it was like stranger things and I credited Stranger things cause it did indeed have a similar premise and I don’t want to pretend I came up with something that has already been done.

Love listening: 2 Parts ✓ SMUT, comedy, fluff, angst, romance, mature. This was inspired by a strange video that came up on the internet, I was searching for BTS misheard lyrics and the video I clicked had some funny ones but after that the next suggested video was bts moans and auto play was on and well this fic was born.

Me & the ghost in Number 23: 11 ✓ fluff, comedy, scifi, supernatural, romance, angst, mature, smut, death of main character. This was inspired by many of the ghost text au’s I had read but many of them were like the show oh my ghost where the main ghost character isn’t actually dead just in a coma and I thought the opposite way instead of them waking up, I wanted things to shape the other way. This one was so difficult to write and I cried a lot due to the loneliness Jimin was facing and the mourning from Yoongi.

Hope in the sheets: 4 chapters (so far) fluff, comedy, smut, adventure, slice of life, romance, angst, mature, growing up. This one is a fic that targets my childish desires. I have grown up so much and this fic is a visual representation of that. 

Asks: 77 (ongoing) where the bts boys answer the readers questions and concerns.

Reactions: 15 (ongoing) 

Prompts: 18 (ongoing)

One shots:

Kisaeng: This was a reverse fic project, the idea that instead of Mulan pretending to be a man and going off to war, it was BTS dressing as women to stay home from war. I loved writing about fictional history. 

Steal my Sunshine: This was a summer project. I wanted to write something that felt like a very bad spy movie, like Mellissa Mccarthy and Mr Bean-esque. I formed this one and it made me laugh the whole time writing it.

Blue Side: This was talking to myself about being sad and admitting that I could be sad but I should learn to split the happy and sad into two worlds and limit my time in them both, it was about equal balance and finding the good in the sad and the sad in the good. I don’t know how hard to explain.

Temptation: I had fun writing but it is pure SMUT. not even good SMUT.

Pandemonium: This was really fun. The premise is dark and the ending is left ambiguous, in the original, Namjoon kills the reader but I left it open so you can imagine them continuing their relationship or not.

Mall santa: A fluffy christmas piece. A secret santa I wrote that I felt needed to be soft and quirky and have just all the hallmark moments.

Mad: This one is finished, but I have it published privately at the moment waiting to unveil it as it is well SMUTTY. I don’t know what it is about Taehyung but he is always so dark and I guess that's what people find appealing. I had this idea from a 365prompt and well I had to write it.

One wish: This was a birthday fic that I wrote for a friend. I wanted people to read it on their birthdays or imagine their birthdays and themselves in this position if they made the same wish.

The Check Up: I wrote for this for a friend going through a personal procedure, they were nervous so I took their bias and made something I hoped they could think about while in the procedure and I even explained the steps and what might happen over the next few days hoping the whole thing wouldn’t seem as scary because technically her mind had already been through it when reading the story.

Sparks of the heart: Robots developing human feeling. It was a cute universe and Yoongi’s story will be a series within 2021.

Dance machine 3000

Digital Art

Electronic Tonic

Circuit chef

Random Access Memory

Kookies Trojans and Malware

Feel Better: Another fic written for a author who was sick, I wanted them to endulge in some escapism whilst they were sick.

Music is the spark that sets my soul on fire & Dance is the celebration of the flame: These two were requests that I loved dearly.

Horror movies: Cheesy damsel in distress meets boys will be boys.

I will wait (somesay): This song wouldn’t get out of my head so I had to write it.

Wild Space: When I wanted to write a hybrid AU but I already have a hybrid AU being edited. So hybrid werewolves meets space.

The Bomb: This one is compete and ready to post I had to talk myself out of writing this as a series but I love the story line. I love the end.

Lost Boys: This has been stuck in my head since i had a dream about it and I finally wrote it into the new year. I hope you like it.

Mania: Not my favourite work, love ABO universe I just haven’t got an actually story line so it is on hold.

Incaceration: The story that never was, I really need to get around to this one.

Tagging: @moccahobi I know you wanted to tag me... but I am finished so I am tagging you.

[the--highlanders]

Bloody Knuckles

christmas present for @ettelwenailinon!! <3

on ao3.

“Jamie.”

“I know what you’re gonnae say.”

The Doctor settled down beside him with a huff and a flick of his coat, looking for all the world like some sort of startled, ruffled bird. If he had not known any better, Jamie could almost have believed the violence of the motion had sent loosened feathers floating away from him. “How could you?” he spluttered out, as if he had not heard Jamie’s words. “It was a – a -” He puffed up his cheeks, eyes wild and glinting with pent-up fury.

“Go on, then.” Jamie had not meant to bite back with such venom – if he was honest with himself, he was surprised that he still had the energy for that – but his blood was stirring unbidden, his hackles rising. They had been having this argument more and more often, of late, and try as he might he could never really make the Doctor understand. He would claim he did – and then go on and on in his righteous anger, lecturing Jamie about how dangerous it was, to do whatever he had done, and all the time he would conveniently forget that it had been his own life in danger to begin with, or the lives of countless others. No matter how much he shouted, Jamie had never quite gotten him to realise that.

And then, there was the worst thing of all – the fact that he had an awful tendency to turn around and do the exact same thing. Last time it had taken him only a few days to go against his own warnings about taking undue risks, when Jamie had been perfectly safe on his own. This time, with missiles still falling over the city, and the data records they needed still just out of reach, Jamie could only imagine that it would take him less than a few hours to throw himself into harm’s way. It had been stupid of him to jump in front of the Doctor when that blast had hit him, he thought bitterly – though not in the way the Doctor meant it. Now, slumped over the bed, his hands and face littered with cuts and every bone in his body aching, he was of no use to anyone. If the Doctor did decide to do something he shouldn’t, there would be nobody to stop him.

“It was reckless,” the Doctor was saying. Briefly, Jamie wondered what he had been talking about – but it hardly mattered, he supposed. They did tend to say the same things to each other every time. “It was entirely unnecessary – I had the whole situation under control -” His voice was still tight with barely-constrained anger, but his hands were drawing a roll of bandages out of his pocket, tugging unsteadily on the loose end to wrap it around Jamie’s palm. They moved almost of their own accord, turning the fraying length of gauze over with a sort of tenderness that was almost heart-wrenching. Staring down at them, Jamie let the Doctor’s scolding words fade into background noise. His hands could almost have belonged to someone else – a someone else who was not speaking louder and louder as he grew more and more insistent.

Well, he might as well say the same thing that he always said himself. “Ye didnae have anything under control,” he said flatly. “They might’ve killed ye. An’ I couldnae let that happen.”

“Everything was quite alright -”

“It wasn’t.”

“I assure you, it was -”

“It wasn’t!” Jamie’s shout surprised even himself. They stared at each other for a moment, shocked into a wide-eyed silence. It had come too soon, he thought. He knew the pattern of these arguments well by now. They were not supposed to have run out of words yet. “It wasn’t,” he repeated softly, as if they could start the argument up again like it was a broken-down motor. One of those gadgets that played music, stuck on repeat. “They would’ve killed ye.”

“I would have been perfectly fine.”

“I cannae – I couldnae -” Jamie scrubbed his hand over his face. “I couldnae take that chance.”

They were speaking more softly than usual now, too, the Doctor pausing in bandaging Jamie’s hands to ease himself off the bed and kneel before him. He looked so terribly small like that, so awfully vulnerable that Jamie felt his heart seize up in his chest. It was a mercy, he thought, that the argument seemed to have ground to a halt. To hear the Doctor insist that he did not need protecting when he looked so vulnerable – he did not think he could have borne that.

“Jamie,” the Doctor said, still quiet. “Why – ah -” He licked his lips, swallowing like his throat was thick with something. “Why do you do this? For me?”

Do you really not know? Jamie wanted to ask. It seemed absurd that someone as clever as the Doctor could miss the obvious for so long. And yet the Doctor did have a terrible habit of overlooking the most ordinary of things. Perhaps he simply was that clueless. “It’s no’ just you,” he said. There was a grain of truth in that, at least. “I’d do it for Ben an’ Polly, too. An’ for everyone here.”

“I know,” the Doctor murmured. For a brief moment, Jamie was struck again by incredulity that he actually believed it. “But – I can’t help but notice, Jamie, you have a certain – knack, for getting yourself into trouble on my behalf -”

Ah.

There it was, then.

And he had no good answer for it, other than the unspeakable truth. He had known that all along.

“Ye have a knack for gettin’ yourself into trouble,” he parroted back weakly. “Why does it bother ye so much?” His voice turned snappish, defensive. “I’m only savin’ your life, ye know.”

“Why does it bother -” The Doctor dropped Jamie’s hand as he turned away, and Jamie winced as it knocked against the bedframe. “Do you really think I’m – I’m pleased, at you risking your life for me?”

The venom had drained out of his voice, replaced by – something else. Quite what it was, Jamie could not say. But it was just a few notes away from exhausted, half-drowned out by the ear-piercing rumble of a bomb falling just a little too close to them, and Jamie wondered if they really ought to be having this argument now, when there was so much else to be done. Reaching out one hand, he laid it gently on the Doctor’s shoulder, but drew it back towards his chest when he was shaken off.

The soft oof of pain he had let out must have been louder than he had thought, because the Doctor turned around to take his hands up again, eyes crinkled into soft regret. “Oh – oh, Jamie, I am sorry -” He raised Jamie’s hands up, leaning his head down over them, and for one bizarre, ecstatic moment Jamie thought he might be about to kiss the backs of them. But he paused just an inch away, his eyes kept fixed downwards so Jamie could not read whatever thoughts might be swimming just below the surface. “I am sorry,” he said again. “I didn’t mean to – I shouldn’t like to see you hurt, you know.”

“Aye, I know.” There was that lump in Jamie’s throat again. “I wouldnae like tae see ye hurt, either. That’s why I did it.”

“Yes – yes, I know.” The Doctor released one of Jamie’s hands again – but this time he folded it neatly over the other before reaching up to brush at his eyes. Surely the dampness in them had been brought on by the dust shaken from the crumbling ceiling. It could hardly be real tears. “But it wouldn’t be a fair exchange, you know. Your life for mine.” He took up the bandages again, carrying on with wrapping Jamie’s hand, still with that same sort of tenderness. It really would be better if he left it alone, Jamie thought, slowly and deliberately, like he could make himself believe it. Then there would be nothing to throw seeds of hope into the crevices of his chest, scattering them over his ribs and into his lungs for them to cling on tight and take root. Plants that flowered in the tiniest of spaces were always the hardest to get rid of. And these were sown entirely by his own hand, of course. Anything he might think – anything he might be imagining on the Doctor’s part – it was all just wistful thinking. The Doctor simply carried on binding his hands, like he was oblivious to the redness in Jamie’s cheeks.

Another bomb crashed down over the city above them, setting off another cacophony of screams and sirens and splintering glass. A trickle of dust fell from the ceiling, settling powdery white plaster over Jamie’s shoulder, but he did not dare pull his hands away to brush it off.

“They need ye,” he said softly. “Everyone here needs ye. An’ everyone in a million other places, they – if somethin’ happened to ye -”

“They need you too.” The Doctor said it with such firmness that for a moment, Jamie almost believed it. “What would they do without you?”

He scoffed, a little more forcefully than he needed to, and more for his own sake than the Doctor’s. “They don’t need me. Not like they need you.”

“Of course they do. And -” The Doctor swallowed, glancing away, but his grip on Jamie’s hands became almost painfully tight. “I need you too.”

Well, then.

It had been a silly thing to hope for, he had told himself. The sort of thing he repeated to himself late at night, when he felt most lost and out of place – the Doctor needs me, the Doctor needs me, the Doctor needs me.  An easy answer to trip off his tongue when people asked exactly what he was doing, tagging along after someone who understood so much more than he ever could. But it had never been more than that. It had never been the truth. To hear it now, from the Doctor himself – the impact of it shuddered up his spine, a deep, visceral feeling that it meant something.

“Well -” The Doctor simply looked a little bemused, glancing down at Jamie’s hands. “Yes, of course I do, Jamie. Did you really think that I didn’t?”

It must have been the painkillers, Jamie thought, knocking his head about and making him do foolish things. He had been given a strong dose, after all. Or perhaps it was the fear and adrenaline and relief, still whirling around in his blood. Or the constant thunder of bombs, dulling his mind until he felt like he was in a dream. But just what made him do it hardly mattered. The Doctor needed him, and he needed the Doctor, and maybe – just maybe – there was the remotest of chances that they wanted the same thing.

Before he quite knew what he was doing, he had leant forward and kissed the Doctor, bending down at an awkward angle to press on his shoulders until he had sat down on the ground. It was awkward, and messy, and uncomfortable most of all, and he could feel his odd posture stiffening in his already-aching bones, and the Doctor was kissing him back, grasping at his elbows and then his sides, pushing himself back up onto his knees to match Jamie’s height more equally.

He pulled back in degrees, laughing at the Doctor’s insistent kisses even as he leant away from them to breathe. “Now ye see,” he said, and he was laughing harder, almost hysterically at the strangeness of speaking the truth, “why I couldnae let anythin’ happen to ye.” He must be dreaming, he thought. He was still out cold from his injuries, and the Doctor was standing by his bedside, and he had dreamt up some wild fantasy world where the Doctor would actually kiss him back. He could only hope that he did not talk in his sleep.

The Doctor sat down, lifting Jamie’s hands from his shoulders to finally, finally kiss the backs of them instead, and there was no doubt in Jamie’s mind that he really had been longing to do it, in that moment before. His lips grazed over the bandages on one hand and the half-scabbed cuts on the other, and something sad settled over his eyes. “And now you see,” he repeated back, “why I don’t like the thought of you risking your life for me.”

“Aye, I know.” The thought of the Doctor carrying the same worries that he did almost made him feel a twinge of regret. Almost. “But I couldnae just leave ye. Not when – I -”

The words caught in his throat, netted in by the thick dust from the half-ruined city above that hung in the air around them. But the Doctor must have understood, because he simply squeezed Jamie’s hands. “Don’t say it now.”

“Och, I’m – I’m sorry -” It was almost ridiculous in a way, that he could do all this – throw himself into the firing line for the Doctor, and tell him the honest truth about why he had done it, and kiss him of all things – and yet all his bravery faltered at the thought of actually telling him that he loved him. “I -” The words faded away again, like mist in a butterfly net. Speaking the words would make them real, he thought. Break him out of whatever dream-state he was living in and remind him that there was a world outside this bunker, and this everlasting argument of theirs. “I just wanted tae tell ye -”

“It’s alright.” The Doctor leant up to kiss him again, slowly like he was savouring it, carefully like he was taking the unspoken words from Jamie’s lips. “I’m, ah – afraid we don’t have the time. We have to try and get those data records again.” He clasped Jamie's arm to pull him up, but Jamie only raised himself a little way before collapsing back onto the mattress with a huff. “Ah. You’ll not get very far like this, I’m afraid.”

“Aye, I know.” A wave of bitterness washed over Jamie. “You’ll have tae go on your own.”

The Doctor frowned down at him, reaching out to rest his hands over his waist, and Jamie was suddenly glad that he was still sitting. The feeling of the Doctor’s fingers rubbing back and forth against his sides would surely have been enough to make his knees buckle. “You’ll be quite alright here,” the Doctor was saying softly. “I, ah, I won’t be long, and - I’ll be quite alright.” The corner of his mouth twitched slightly. “And no coming after me. It’s a shame I can’t bring you with me, just to keep an eye on you.”

It had not been particularly funny, all things considered, and yet Jamie found himself laughing. The memory of his last laugh made him lean in for another kiss, smiling against the Doctor’s lips. His mind was still reeling with the thought of kissing the Doctor, the painkiller-dulled edges soft enough that he still wondered if he might have made the whole thing up. Surely the real Doctor was doing nothing more than tending to his injuries, with no thoughts of kissing him or promises of staying safe. But if he was still dreaming, he was quite happy to stay that way. “I won’t do anythin’ silly if ye don’t,” he said.

“If you insist. And when I’m done -” The Doctor leant away enough for their noses to bump together, reaching out to take Jamie’s hands, his thumbs stroking over the loose ends of the bandages to roll them over until they were tucked in. “I’ll come back here, and see how you’re getting on, and you can say anything you’d like. We’ll have all the time in the world.”

It should have worried him more, he knew, to be letting go of the Doctor at a time like this, when so much was still unsaid between them. He ought to have been pushing himself off the bed and hobbling after him to get the both of them into terrible danger. Just a few minutes ago, he might have entertained that very thought. But something soft and peaceful had settled over him, cushioning him from the shrill sounds of the city burning, and filling the pit of his stomach with a calm certainty that the Doctor would be alright. That whatever they had started could not be stopped until it had run its course.

The floor beneath them shook with the impact of another bomb, sending the Doctor pitching forward into his chest. They clutched at each other instinctively, holding each other up, both staring up at the ceiling in trepidation. “All the time in the world?” Jamie repeated.

The Doctor’s eyes were darting around wildly, but when he spoke his voice was perfectly even. “All the time in the world.”

[crypterion-moon]

Tiamat: Rise in Shadow p.1

Summary: His name used to be Tim, once Robin, then Red Robin, then everything just turned Red. Now he’s a shadow of the young man he used to be, not even a shadow. A monster with the face of Timothy Drake Jackson that loved to sleep with strangers and kill when it suited him.

But his time is coming and he must make his choices or be swallowed up by the past, not even his newfound family can save him from that.

Tags: Vampires, a bit of angst, supernatural

A/N: This chapter was written and not corrected, so apologies for the amateurish writing and typos but AO3 already has this so no point in trying to change anything now

Movement beside him, the bed suddenly bereft of a presence shifted Tiamareshka awake. Far too early for his taste. He cracked open one lazy eye and saw the light seeping through. He promptly shut it again. Any point in the day was too early for Tiamareshka , he had never claimed to be a morning person. Unluckily, the person next to him was and work was very important for humans in this society. The sounds of pants, shirts being pulled on, belt buckles being done and a clear thud of the hone on the dresser reached his ears, it felt refreshing to hear such domestic sounds. To not work and earn your living is a failure in the eyes of your mother and father, to not contribute to society is to be a burden. Nothing to do with Tiamareshka  though, he planned to laze around in the stranger's bed for while longer. At least until night falls again. He rolled over on his side, his arms curled up at his chest and facing the wall, he muttered something unintelligible, which comes out in a soft groan. The bed dipped again, this time Tiamareshka  could feel lips trailing and kissing their way down his body, from his curled shoulder along each rib, the blanket that covered the lower half of his body was lifted as the man planted a few soft, lingering pecks on his hip.

“Morning beautiful.”

Tiamareshka  let out a soft moan, just to tease, “Mmmm, don't you have work today?”

“I wish I didn't.”

Tiamareshka  smirked, his body curled up slightly more, raising his hips slightly higher for some more kisses which his partner for the night happily obliged, his hands stroking along his legs and slipping in between Tiamareshka 's pale thighs.

“Will I see you again sometime?”

Tiamareshka  hummed with approval, “Same place after dark.”

“Okay,” the man grinned nibbling playfully at Tiamareshka 's ear, “I'll see you soon.”

Tiamareshka  listened to the rustling of clothes, and the closet. He heard the man leave the room and pick up his keys for the bowl in the hallway, and the door clicked shut.

He thought about letting himself turn a bit, just some black smoke so he could return without having to physically get up and walk, his body ached deliciously though. Last night was fun and satisfying in one go, though the man was far too tender for his comfort. The idea was that it would just be a once off, non-committal thing where the two of them could have fun but it seemed more like this guy was looking for something more but wasn't aware of it. Tiamareshka  wriggled about under the covers and took in the scent that clung to the bedsheets, the scent of another human was so addictive. Such a sweet man but rather desperate and lonely, it would be a shame to kill him, even by accident.

The smell and presence of humans, was almost too much in the small space that was this seedy club, and Tiamareshka  loved it. He could taste the energy flowing and permeating the air. His hunting place, his one stop for a bit of fun and food.

The hip-hop trance mix that pulsed around the club was a bit on the obnoxious side but not totally intolerable, the laser light that swirled around the floor was quite irritating so he'd settled himself on the other end of the place where a warm light filled the bar and lounge area still in view of the dancefloor. If it wasn't such a popular place with good choices, he wouldn't even bother coming here.

Sitting at the bar, Tiamareshka  glanced over each face, searching for an acceptable companion for the night. As his eyes scoured over each face, they would sometimes meet with another and often, they would stare and blush. Unable to tear their eyes away, Tiamareshka  could send them the most devilish look and they'd quickly hide or look away in embarrassment. He'd know when they looked back at him when they thought he'd turned his gaze. People were so easily tempted even when he wasn't trying. Look in their direction in a certain way and it's hook, line and sinker.

It was so much fun fooling around with them, especially the dumb ones but only a few were worthwhile.

And tonight, the pretty lady in with the shiny jacket should make a nice meal.

Turns out she was quite well off, her apartment was well decorated and nothing displayed seemed to be on the fake or cheap side. A few glances around and it was apparent that she was actually a finance worker of a company, and not a very honest one at that, but at that moment, Tiamareshka  really couldn't care less.

She was healthy, energetic and indeed very full of life...as well as herself. Stupid woman, vain and overestimating, her body screamed for attention, for men to worship her because she deserved it. She'd put down and humiliated a lot of people for her own gain. Tiamareshka  had avoid looking any further or he'd be turned off by such a rotten soul. For now, he was hungry. 

One wild night proved fun though it left the woman almost completely drained but he always made sure not to let that happen, Tiamareshka  was careful about that. The consequences weren't pretty.

What he wasn't prepared for was the woman talking and making noises in her sleep, which irritated Tiamareshka  from sleeping that he had to leave the apartment complex. He slipped out through the window, leathery wings unfurling and soared noiselessly up towards the sky. Tendrils of black wispy smoke slithered out from beneath his skin and around his body, solidifying and materializing as clothing, conveniently. He smirked and he continued to soar over the city before settling on one of the buildings that had a nice domed tower to it, perfect for a resting place. It was annoying having to leave so soon. At least it was a beautiful moon night.

His breath ghosted in the chill air which blew softly across his skin as Tiamareshka  laid down on the metal. He stared up at the and watched the city moving and breathing angrily down below, Gotham was always such a miserable place. The embodiment of filth, probably no better than the city of Sodom though that may be exaggerating. It had a protector after all. He wasn't sure if it was the city that made Batman that grim icon or the other way around. Perhaps it was that vicious cycle. Tiamareshka  could remember the way Bruce moved, silent and imposing, promptly followed by a young boy in yellow, green and red, laughing at the world. With no pants.

Tiamareshka  smiled wryly. Thinking of Batman and Robin brought back so many memories, the good and bad, they both made his heart ache, what's left of it any way.

He turned over and tucked his wing against himself. He'll sleep them away, just for a little while before he moves on.

There's blood on his hands, on his face, in his mouth. Red all around him, pooling at his feet. But he isn't looking, it's his hands he can't tear his eyes away from. Tiamareshka 's hand, didn't look like a human's anymore. The fingers were long and protruding from them were long black claws and they were all red, saturated in warm liquid. It comforted him and horrified him at the same time, like coming out of a high. Not his blood, he looked up. Across from him were corpses, the dead, cooling bodies of his friends, the league and Dick?! Bruce!! Damian...oh god oh god, who did this? He looked around  and saw no one, no one else but him and...Jason.

But the man wasn't wearing a mad deranged smile like he remembered once, it was a look of horror and pure fear. His hands were clean.

Why was Jason looking at him like that?

Suddenly, the Red Hood turned away and walked, Tiamareshka  tried to get up and follow but he was stuck, unable to move. He called out to Jason.

“You monster.” 

Tiamareshka  woke up to the cool air rapidly warming as the sun rose up over the cityline. Damn, he didn't think he'd sleep the whole night away, it was dawn and he wasn't prepared to take on the full glare of the sun. He was lucky he didn't run into the bat, or the bird for that matter. That would be beyond awkward. He slinked away under the cover of the sun's shadow. He settled down again in his favourite spot, fatigue taking over again. He cursed internally at that damn dream, it always deprived him of rest no matter how long he tried to sleep. He suspected the longer he was in it, the worse it would make him feel and right now, he felt like he hadn't slept in three days. It reminded him so much of his sleepless vigilante days it was almost funny, almost.

“Tiamat.”

A voice whispered to him where he hid, sheltered from the sights of passers-by, high behind the golems of Gotham. Tiamareshka  stirred from his curled sleep, listening to the multitudes of voices hissing and sighing inaudibly in the background. The space before him twisted and warped with dark energy. Then a figure stepped out from the swirling mass and onto the stone. Greeting Tiamareshka  with a wide, crooked smile.

“Petrakar.” The boy responded with a half giggle, his coal black, tight suit rippled with his body. 

“Still fooling around? I know you were overly serious before but this takes the cake.”

Tiamareshka  snorted with contempt, he almost wished he'd ignored the sly bastard but he wasn't bothered with moving. Instead he let his tail answer for him, swatting at Petrakar with an impatient flick. Of course, it did nothing since he was only a mirage and it passed through his wispy form like it was just smoke, distorting Petrakar's image only briefly before it settled back in place.

“Someone's moody today.”

“Did you call just to annoy me?”

Petrakar sat down beside a curled up Tiamareshka  and reached over, brushing stray strands of hair from his face. As much of an illusion as it was, the boy still felt very real and right there, though his touch felt more like breaths than anything physical.

“You've been seeking out human comfort frequently as of late, have the nightmares returned?”

“...They have always been there, sometimes they're not as bad but then they get louder, clearer, like I'm living it all over again. It happened again last night, when I left early.”

Petrakar said nothing for a long time, the sound of their breaths drowned out in the city's hum. Tiamareshka  considered sleeping right here while he could feel Petrakar's presence. He could ask him to stay for a while while he rested but seeing as he wasn't truly here in the flesh, no doubt he was occupied. It pained Tiamareshka  to acknowledge how much he needed contact, companionship to chase those damn nightmares away. He felt weak and helpless against himself, he could feel that part of him mocking at him for such dependency, letting it slowly eat him away.

It was all his fault of course, your fault your failure murderer murderer demon monster, Jason can't even look at you now, not even Alfred.

Tiamareshka  gasped in shock, clutching at his breast in pain. Petrakar still at his side reacted accordingly prying Tiamareshka 's fingers from his chest and holding them.

“Stop, don't let it get to you again. Come on, Tiamareshka , stay with me.”

Can't here, can't see, only the thing inside trying to claw it's way back out, take over again. Your fault their fault unwanted, they abandoned you, it's only natural to make them pay, make you pay, watch the world burn, let's do it.

Look what they did to you.

“Look at me!”

Tiamareshka  was gasping for air, suddenly seeing Petrakar again. He wasn't aware of the tears in his eyes. All that act, all those disgusting nights with endless streams of face, voices, praises but he wasn't beautiful. He was damned. Trying to claw his way out of hell.

Petrakar looked at him with eyes that mirrored his, his suffering, Tiamareshka 's own pain, they all had suffered, had to so they could be together this way, but he, she told him he wasn't ready yet. When?

Petrakar leaned down and placed a tender kiss on his lips, breathing for a minute, “Something is coming your way, Tiamareshka , and it's nearly your time.”

Tiamareshka  sat up legs bent behind him as he searched for meaning behind those words, Petrakar's rust colored eyes gave nothing away, “I don't understand.”

“Thing's are going to change.” 

Tiamareshka  dipped his gaze, completely losing the mask and being that confused, over-analyzing boy he once was, serious and curious all at once. Robin, not Robin. Petrakar smiled a little sad smile and began to fade from sight, his ghost hands still caressing Tiamareshka 's face, “I hope for the better,” Tiamareshka  said.

“We all do.” 

[go-events]

GO Rom Com Spotlight: @racketghost​

The fabulous @racketghost​ has claimed Zack and Miri Make a Porno to adapt for Good Omens in the Good Omens Rom Com Event.

For reference, here’s some information about the source material!

Synopsis of Zack and Miri Make a Porno: Lifelong friends and now roommates, Zack (Seth Rogen) and Miri (Elizabeth Banks) are buried under a mountain of debt. When the electricity is turned off, they realize that desperate times call for desperate measures. They decide to make an adult film to raise some cash. Though they swear that having sex will not damage their friendship, their business proposition quickly turns into something much more.

We spent some time chatting about how the adaptation is coming so far, as well as future plans for it! Now, get to know @racketghost​​ (also racketghost on AO3) a little better!

* * *

goromcom: Here it comes, my silly tags question. You know how if you open a Tumblr chat with someone you haven't chatted to before, Tumblr tells you two things they post about? I wanted to tell you that yours reports that you post about "#aziraphale is baby and #ineffable husbands." I am DYING at that first one, because correct tag is correct!

racketghost: Oh my gosh, that is amazing. I use that tag an unholy amount. But I mean, he is baby, so—I think it’s warranted!

goromcom: You chose to adapt Zack and Miri Make a Porno as your rom com. I'd like to disclose to you at this time that I am the one who added that to the masterlist, and was secretly hoping someone would take it. And you have! :) Has this movie been a favorite of yours, or is there some other reason you chose it?

racketghost: AH! I remember when the prompts were being claimed and I think it was you who said OMG someone took Zack and Miri and I wanted to stand up and say, it was me. I’m the absolute loon! I am SO GLAD you added it to the master list. It’s an under-appreciated romance movie (I think because it gets covered up by all the wonderful, wonderful filth). 

I will confess that I chose this movie because @summerofspock​ and I were chatting about which movies to take (I originally wanted Pretty Woman! Anyone who has read Strange Moons knows why) and we were discussing which movies would be the hardest to adapt. And then I sort of coughed up an idea for Zack and Miri and Summer went full supportive-cheerleader mode and pointed out that pining-while-also-having-sex is sort of my entire wheelhouse. The rest just clicked. She’s wonderful. <3 (I have also always loved the movie. I really adore Kevin Smith. It is my duty as a native of New Jersey!)

goromcom: What's your favorite moment of your chosen rom com, and are you looking forward to presenting it in your adaptation? Any loose plans for that scene that you can share? (I will inline spoiler alert for the answer if it seems necessary.)

racketghost: I think my favorite part of my romcom isn’t necessarily a moment or a scene, it’s more that Zack and Miri are the very dearest and closest of friends that we get to see over and over again. They have a wonderful platonic intimacy that I think mirrors Crowley and Aziraphale very, very well. Lots of bickering and long-suffering sighs and many an eye-roll. But also a fierce protectiveness. Like, this is MY best friend and yes they are ridiculous but only I can say so. I hope to capture that intimacy!

goromcom: Do you plan to stick very closely to the story beats of the original movie, or make bigger changes?

racketghost: Oh no, my story is…. Very, very different from the original. It will follow the same story beats to a degree but I am flipping this from an ensemble cast thing into a just-the-two-of-them thing. So that’s a big change! 

goromcom: What's an interesting decision you've made in your planning so far--a notable casting decision, a changing of venue, or some other plan you have to paint Good Omens all over your rom com?

racketghost: Well, anyone who has read my other stories knows that I am clearly incapable of writing anything that isn’t hopelessly full of angst. So I have upped the stakes quite a bit and basically scrapped the entire mood of the movie. I also really twisted the idea of someone turning off the power, so to speak. There are bills to pay! It’s set in a canon-universe so they aren’t worrying about keeping the lights on. Basically, Zack and Miri Make a Porno but make it goth.

goromcom: I am blatantly stealing this last question from The Good Place: The Podcast, but here goes: Tell me something "good". It can be something big or small. It can be a charity you think is doing good work, or you can talk about how great your pet is.

racketghost: Let me begin this by saying YOU are wonderful for managing this wild bunch and starting all of this. You are doing an awesome job and I really appreciate all the work you do for us!

Second, my dog Jackson is the goodest boy of all the good boys and I love him forever.

And third, I am a big fan (and so is Jackson) of a grass-roots organization called The Surfrider Foundation. I’m basically an unevolved ocean creature (when did I sprout these legs?) and I think the preservation of our oceans is one of the highest and most important campaigns we can all work toward. They do regular beach cleanups you can join in and they help preserve oceanic habitats, educate people on single-use plastics and residential water consumption, and champion making informed choices on sustainable seafood. They’re non-profit and staffed by some truly wonderful hardworking humans who just want to preserve this great, beautiful blue planet and all the things living in it. Crowley and Aziraphale would be fans, I think.

goromcom: Aww, thanks for that first bit. And Jackson and The Surfrider Foundation both sound amazing.

So GO fans, make sure to watch for...and I am giddy to be saying this...a canon-compliant adaptation of Zack and Miri Make a Porno.

[okaybutlikeimagine]

Harringrove for Australia: Ihni♥

hi there!! the gorgeous and fabulous and fantastic @ihni asked me to write this for #HarringroveforAustralia! and here it is!! ♥

prompt: someone wants to get back at Billy so they do something Very Stupid that leads to Billy getting hurt; guilt and hurt/comfort ensues!

tags: mentions of abuse, bruising, implied (light) blood, past child abuse, hurt/comfort, angst, hopeful ending (♥!)

You can catch it on AO3 here if you so desire!

Word Count: 4,452 (i’m legit the worst i’m so sorry i went over my word limit!)

thank you babe and thanks again @tracy7307 for putting the whole thing together!

(kay time to finish and essay, bye, love you)

---

~On Your Best Behavior~

Steve may not be the smartest kid in school. He’s right at average in even his favorite classes, and, truth be told… there’s not a lot of those. He likes to think he has street smarts, but Tommy always has to show him up; has to remind him what position his “rich boy privilege” has left him in. It’s gotten to the point where he feels like there’s nothing special about his own knowledge. He doesn’t know about history, or grammar, or even music, or movies… some days it feels like he doesn’t know anything. Like everyone’s right when they say his head is just there to carry his hair around.

But if there's one thing he knows… one thing he’s absolutely sure of… it’s that Billy Hargrove is the biggest asshole in all of Indiana. And Steve has met Mayor Kline.

But Billy takes it all. He’s the culmination of every jackass in the state, all rolled up into this punk who can’t seem to keep his fucking shirt on. He saunters around like he owns the place, shoving into Steve in the hallways and wagging his tongue like it’s some kind of… threat or something, Steve isn’t sure.

He just blew into town like a wild thunderstorm a little over 2 months ago and already he’s given everyone grief- at least, everyone Steve knows. He cheats on every girl he’s out with (if the girls of Hawkins are to be believed), he’s in detention every day for mouthing off to teachers, he stole Steve’s friends which… yeah he’s having a hard time reconciling that one because if they left that quickly maybe they weren’t too good of friends but still.

And worst of all, what absolutely takes the cake in the Shit-Show that is Billy Hargrove and his bullying….

He picks on the kids.

He picks on Steve’s kids. He scares Max, he bullied Lucas, he nearly killed all of them with his little stunt with the car that first week he was here. He splashed them with rain water once as he drove past them, he kicked over Dustin’s bike when he was standing outside of the arcade, he dropped Max’s backpack in the mud the other day. Hell, one time they were all bouncing a basketball around and Mike missed it and it accidentally rolled over to Billy (who was leaning against a wall smoking a cigarette) who took out a pocket knife and stabbed it, letting all the air out before tossing it back and walking away.

He’s a jerk. An outright punk. And yeah, maybe the stuff he’s done isn’t criminal. Maybe most of it at this point is just kind of bratty and petty. Maybe Max explained away the Lucas thing pretty definitively (with a lot of “He didn’t mean it that way”s and “You don’t understand the whole situation”s and “He hates all boys who look at me”s and one quiet “It’s his dad who’s the strict one…”), but… but still. It doesn’t matter, he’s still an asshole and people shouldn’t just be able to get away with being an asshole like that.

Yeah, sure, Steve himself was kind of an asshole for a little bit. Yeah, sure, Steve got let off the hook a lot of times for doing some of the same things Billy has done. But Steve had reasons. Plus he was young when that stuff happened. He doesn’t do that anymore.

Either way, it shouldn’t really matter why Billy’s doing it or not. They’re horrible things to do and Billy needs to stop.

Which all leads up to right now, which finds Steve in a diner with Dustin, Lucas, and Mike (because Will and Max had a project they had to stay behind and work on). They’re on the heated topic of Billy because apparently the older boy popped the tires on Dustin’s bike.)

“He’s such an asshole.” Dustin lisps into his soda (that Steve was very reluctant to give the boy, but he pouted about his bike enough that Steve gave in.

Mike nods, mumbling angrily into his french fries while Lucas, across from Mike, rolls his eyes.

“We need to do something about him.” Dustin says again, before getting that sly little grin on his face that lets Steve know he’s hatching a plan.

And if Steve’s honest, it’s a very very childish plan. Mike is even adamant that it’s childish, claiming they could come up with something better before switching his tune with very little convincing, citing Billy as a child. So it really is childish. And Steve knows that because someone did this to him once back in the 5th grade. It pissed him off to no end which, honestly, is the only reason Steve begins to consider it. It’s not like any real harm can come of it, it’ll probably just be more annoying than anything which is honestly what Steve wants.

He mulls over it for a second before deciding: “Yeah. Sure. Fuck that guy… tomorrow. I’ll do it tomorrow.”

Dustin and Mike laugh triumphantly with each other.

Lucas has become stunningly quiet as he takes a big sip of his water.

----

When Steve rings the doorbell around 5:30 pm when he’s sure his intended target will be home, the sound comes out as a far more pleasant chime than he was expecting. He doesn’t come to this side of town very often, even though Tommy used to live on this street back when they were kids. It’s not bad, but Steve definitely notices the dying grass, the empty front yard, the worse-for-wear sidewalk…

He waits patiently, mentally preparing what he’s going to say, while hearing heavy footsteps approach the door in a way that Steve can only describe as menacing.

The door swings open, and there before him, in all his 6’ glory, is Billy’s dad. Mr. Hargrove.

He’s only an inch taller than Steve and yet he carries himself like he’s got a foot over him.

“Can I help you?”

Steve clears his throat. The house is deafeningly quiet, even from the fully opened doorway. It confuses Steve for a second, because any time he drops Max off home and Billy is there, the house is raging with music. And Steve knows Billy is here now, if the arrogant blue Camaro is anything to go by.

“Hello! Mr. Hargrove, right?” Steve offers his hand up, putting on his best ‘good rich boy’ voice that he saves specifically for meeting friends of his parents. “Steve Harrington.”

“Harrington.” Mr. Hargrove says with some kind of bitter admiration in his voice. “I’ve heard about your parents.”

Steve isn’t surprised. Neil takes his hand firmly. It feels like a power move, how hard the man grips, but Steve does his best to rival the strength. He needs to be as credible as possible here.

Steve just isn’t quite sure what to say about his parents. He opts for a charming smile that doesn’t quite disarm Mr. Hargrove like he was hoping.

“So,” Mr. Hargrove begins, letting go of Steve’s now sore hand. “What brings you here?”

“Oh, well Mr. Hargrove-”

“Go ahead and call me Neil, son.” The man says in a way that feels more intimidating than he thinks it should. Steve hears a door close rather harshly from inside the house. Mr. Hargro- Neil grimaces at it for a split second.

“Okay uh… Neil. I just wanted to talk to you about your son. Your son is Billy Hargrove, correct?”

“That’s correct.” Neil’s face stays as stoic as before.

“Well I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but I felt someone should bring it up with you. Your son has been a… a… menace. To a lot of people at school.”

Steve worked through so many words in his head and menace is what tumbles out of his dumb, nervous brain. It’s like he’s holding cotton in his mouth, he feels so stupid.

It does the job though. If human eyes could turn red, Neil’s eyes would be like a firetruck. Or maybe the fire itself.

“He has, huh?”

“Yes, sir.” Steve hates saying sir. Feels he needs to, here. “And outside of school as well. To a lot of little kids and… and even to your younger daughter.”

Steve knows Max isn’t his biological daughter. At least, he’s pretty sure. Pretty sure the dad is Billy’s and the mom is Max’s. But it slips out before he can stop it. More cotton balls falling from his mouth. Still, it’s working as he meant it to.

Right? This is what I’m trying to do?

Because suddenly, seeing the tension in this man’s jaw and the fire in his eyes, Steve’s not quite so sure he wants to be here anymore.

“Oh really? And have your parents witnessed this?”

Steve blinks. He doesn’t really understand the question.

“Uh… excuse me, sir, my parents?” Steve starts to pick at the side hem of his jeans.

“Yes.” Neil’s teeth are clenched. Steve fights not to take a step back. “Your parents. Do they notice too?”

Steve really has to wrap his mind around the question before he can come up with an appropriate answer. This man has heard of his parents, probably because people gossip. If people are gossiping, it’s probably about their money. It’s always about their money. Their influence even though, if anyone were to ask Steve, they don’t really have any. They’re never around to influence the town like everyone seems to swear they do. They just have money, and apparently money talks. As far as Steve is concerned, it’s more of a whisper, but he knows not everyone feels the same way. He knows someone who lives in a house like this, with untended gardens and unpaved walkways, probably doesn’t feel the same way.

He thinks he has an answer now.

“Yes, they have noticed. They think it’s a little… embarrassing.”

Neil looks like he’s going to growl. Steve takes that step back now, even though he doesn’t think about it.

“That’s very interesting.” Neil really might as well be snarling at this point. “Well, thank you for telling me, son. I’ll definitely have a chat with William.”

Steve nods his head and before he can think about it or even say a word, the door is in his face and the man is gone, the only thing left behind being the sound of heavy footsteps.

Steve feels like he’s in a bit of a daze as he walks back to his car, but not before tripping over the crack in the poorly paved walkway. And Steve may not be the smartest kid in school, may not be the smartest kid in Hawkins at this moment, but if there’s one thing he does know, it’s that Billy is getting grounded right now.

He’d call this a success.

---

Billy isn’t at school the next day.

Steve tries to pretend like he’s not nervous about it.

And really, he isn’t all that nervous. Sure, it’s in the back of his mind for most of the day, but he’s not exactly nervous. He's not even sure what he would be nervous about.

It’s not until he sees Max yelling at Dustin and smacking him upside the head that he gets a little nervous.

It’s not like it has to be a particularly special occasion for Max to do something like that to Dustin, but still. There’s something in Steve’s gut that tells him he’s involved in this. If Max’s angry eyes that turn on him are anything to go by, he’s right in his assumption.

“Did you come to my house last night?” She asks like she knows. It’s hardly a question.

“Yes.” Steve shoves his hands in his pockets to keep them from lifting in the air in submission.

“You idiots! What were you thinking?” Max yells, smacking Dustin then Mike then Lucas, who whines that he didn’t want it to happen. She then turns to Steve, punching his arm harshly.

“Woah woah woah, what did we do?” Steve asks like he doesn’t know.

“Like you don’t know, you moron! You- you! Did you talk to Neil?”

Steve is so taken aback that he just nods. Max growls.

“You moron! Never come to my house again!” Max’s face is red with anger, absolutely fuming as Dustin and Mike and Lucas sputter all at once in a vain attempt to make things right. But Max isn’t listening, she’s laying her board on the ground, about to skate away.

“Wha-? Max, what’s wrong? We were just-”

“I don’t care what you were trying to do!”

“Your brother is an asshole! You say so all the time!” Dustin yells in a desperate type of defense. Max’s eyes look far more hurt now than anything else, even as she’s still glaring daggers.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” She says and there’s a lot less malice in her voice now. Her shoulders are slumped as she starts to skate away.

Steve can’t take it.

“Max.” It’s in vain. He tries harder. ”Max! Where’s your brother?”

“Stay away from him.” Max calls back, pushing off to skate faster.

The boys all look to Steve, who knows in an instant.

---

At least, he hopes he does. It’s not until he’s about a mile out from the quarry that he starts to have second thoughts about if his gut was right.

He’s driving slowly, mind reeling, heart pumping blood so loudly through his ears that he can’t hear his music, when he sees a figure he wasn’t expecting to see.

Hop?

It is. It’s Hop. Standing above a hunched over boy that Steve is praying is the boy he’s been looking for. He knows it is- no one else has that haircut in Hawkins.

Steve steps out of his car gingerly, does his best to avoid twigs and leaves on the ground as he walks up to the pair to listen in on what they’re saying.

Hop’s face is serious, with a tone to match.

“Look, like it or not you’re still a minor. If you keep not showing up for school your parents are gonna get in big trouble.”

“Promise?” Billy’s voice is weak.

“Har har. Get to class tomorrow.” Hop says, entirely unimpressed. A few seconds go by, the white noise of Indiana bugs fill in the silence between them in the strangest way Steve has ever experienced. Suddenly the air is different. It shifts in a very personal way. Steve immediately picks up on the fact that he shouldn’t be here, right before Hop begins again with:

“… You... know, right? If you need someone to drive you I can-”

It’s soft and sincere and Hop’s hand is reaching out towards Billy’s shoulder gingerly, like he’s going to pet a strange animal, when he catches something in the corner of his eye- and that something is Steve.

Hop clears his throat, and Billy looks over to Hop at the sound.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to find someone.” Hop says, voice void of emotion. Billy turns his head just enough to see Steve out of the corner of his eye before he whips back around. “Stay outta trouble, kid.”

And with that, Hop gives what looks like a sad smile in Billy’s direction before leaving. He gives an odd nod of acknowledgement to Steve as he passes, his face looking rougher than usual. More tired.

Steve takes a couple of steps forward, suddenly finding himself in the position of approaching a strange animal. This “strange animal” that he’s seen almost every day for the past couple of months.

Billy’s still sat on the ground, his legs in a folded up form of criss cross that allow his elbows to hook around his knees. Steve thinks he looks rather small like this. He hasn’t moved to look up at Steve at all. Steve isn’t even sure if the boy looked at Hop when he was here.

“Hey…” He starts, hoping it’ll get the boy’s attention. It doesn’t. “Uh, Billy?”

He’s met with the white noise of the screeching bugs. They stand there until Steve can’t take it, which is only about 3 seconds tops.

“Billy?”

Again, nothing. Billy doesn’t even move-doesn’t even flinch.

“Hargrove.” Steve is stern with it this time.

Steve’s getting impatient, but Billy’s a rock. Steve shifts to sit in his hip.

“Hey, asshole!” He calls a little louder than he needs to when he’s a few feet away. The response is rather instant this time.

“You called?” Billy’s voice drawls and it gets under Steve’s skin like nothing else.

“God you’re annoying…“ Steve groans, exhaustion visible in his face and audible in his voice. He rubs a hand down his cheek as his heart races with the words building up in his mouth. The cotton balls are back. “Hey uh… Why weren’t you at school today?”

He doesn’t know what to expect, but the unattractive snort definitely isn’t surprising.

“Ha…” Billy’s laugh comes out more like a puff of air. “Got some new accessories that I don’t think fit the dress code.”

Billy’s looking at the ground when he says it and Steve almost doesn’t hear. Certainly doesn’t understand.

“What? What are you talking about?”

Billy’s shoulders shake and it takes a few seconds of debating if Billy needs a comforting hand or something to realize he’s chuckling and not crying. The boy shakes his head, curly mullet bouncing in a way that’s far too light for how Steve feels right now.

“Why do you care, huh Harrington? Miss me that much?” Billy looks to his feet now. Steve sees the hint of a smirk on his lips, past his curls. “Can’t handle a day without me?”

“Shut up, it’s not like that-”

“You came all the way out here to look for me.”

Steve pauses.

“I was heading here anyway.” He lies. Billy snorts like he knows it’s a lie. Because he does know.

“Right. It’s fine to miss me, babe.”

Steve’s face burns.

“Don’t call me that.” He hisses, blood boiling where it’s pumping fast through his body. Billy cackles for good measure.

Steve’s got half a mind to turn around. Damn this guy, whatever he got, he fucking deserved it. He’s an asshole. Whatever happened should have happened.

But…

But Max. The image of her red face and tired eyes flashes into Steve’s memory. She was livid. Screaming. Close to crying.

You don’t know what you’re talking about.

Steve didn’t like that. Because how is he supposed to know if no one says anything? How is he supposed to understand if no one tells him?

He sighs.

“Look Hargrove I… I’m sorry. Okay?”

He feels defensive. Billy almost looks at him, but looks at Steve’s shoes instead. Steve still can’t see his face from the shadows of the trees and curls.

“Sorry for what?”

“I… I-” Steve stammers because he didn’t expect a question.

“Use your words, princess.” Billy says on a snort and Steve breaks.

“I don’t know! Okay? I don’t know. It’s just… Max was upset this afternoon and said something about your… your dad, I guess and now I… she made me feel awful and I don’t even know why but I do know I’m sorry, alright? So can you just quit being an asshole and accept my apology and-”

Steve’s eyes wander back to the boy at his feet. Billy’s shoulders are tense. Up by his ears, muscles taut all down his back, absolutely strung out.

“What do you know about my dad?” His voice is dark now. Dangerous. There’s a growl in it. A familiar one.

Steve fights his step back.

“I just… Not a lot. I just met him-”

“Shit.” Billy whispers, loud enough for Steve to hear. His shoulders are shaking- like a leaf in the fall wind and suddenly Steve feels that concern again.

Billy throws his head back, eyes closed and grimace on his lips as he shakes his head in what looks like disbelief, hair falling down behind him as the sun catches him and makes his face light up in a way that's near blinding and Steve knows this is a serious situation and thus is definitely not thinking about how the late evening sun does Billy and his gorgeous skin every favor.

“Shoulda known. The rich and famous Harringtons.”

Steve rolls his eyes at the statement.

“We’re not famous. We’re not even that rich, I-”

And that’s when Billy finally turns his head to Steve. Finally lets Steve see what he’s been wanting to see- that stupidly smug face with that stupidly cocky grin, telling Steve everything is fine and-

And-

“Holy shit… Billy, what happened?”

Billy’s face is more purple than it is tan. The skin around both eyes is bruised, his left worse than his right. There’s a bit of red on his cheek and his lower lip is split. The side of his neck has a few bruises as well, and Steve knows just from looking at them that they weren’t done out of passion- not romantic passion at least. No, rather a far more malevolent passion.

And now Steve notices the way Billy is moving. Gingerly and slow, like everything aches. It probably does.

Good lord…

“Billy?”

Billy’s looking up at Steve with the saddest eyes and it hits Steve like a freight train. There’s no anger to be found in them. Any fire that was there is there for a split second before they just turn tired. Bloodshot and worn and tired. His lips curl up into a grin that carries poison in it.

“I ran into a wall. Fell down the stairs.” Billy says, in a voice that tries so hard to be innocent that it’s haunting. “I’m a real clumsy kid.”

Billy’s voice wavers at that last part and it strikes Steve like a knife to his chest. Because he doesn’t want to say it, doesn’t even want to think it… but he thinks he knows. This happened to him once. Those words sound familiar and they link back to when Steve was 13- the first and last time his father ever backhanded him- and Steve could see the fear in both of his parents faces as they implored him to tell everyone he just fell down the stairs.

Steve doesn’t know what to say. What to do with his hands. Just looks into Billy’s eyes until he can’t anymore. Until he’s fidgeting and his mind is racing and his heart is threatening to rip a hole in his chest and-

“Can you do me a favor?” Billy asks, voice quieter than Steve’s ever heard him.

“Uhm…” Steve has to bite his tongue before he starts babbling.

“Real simple favor.” Billy turns his eyes to his own shoes. “Never come by my house again. Alright?”

Steve’s heart drops. He sees Billy heave a heavy sigh after he says those words.

“Wha-?”

“God, Harrington.” Billy’s exasperated. Tilts his head back and this time the light catches all of that purple on his face. It’s a universe of the most confusing pain Steve’s ever felt and he feels stupid even thinking that. “Can you hear me or do you have too much dried hairspray caked in your ears? I need you to listen.”

“I’m listening.” Steve’s voice is near a whisper. He can’t take his eyes off the bruising.

“Good. Don’t come by my house. Ever again.”

Steve feels a lump in his throat. Billy turns blue, expectant eyes on Steve, who just nods in what feels like shame. The most hideous and painful shame.

“Yeah… yeah okay I uh… fuck Billy. Shit, I’m so sorry-”

“Save it.” Billy stretches his legs out in front of him, head tilting back, face catching the sun.

“I’m serious I-”

“I said save it.” Billy screws his eyes shut. “I don’t wanna hear about it, alright?”

Steve nods, heat prickling the back of his eyelids.

Billy sighs.

“I’ll be back in school by Monday. I’ll be sure to be a real asshole. Make up for lost time.”

Billy’s acting like this is normal. Like this isn’t major. Like Steve didn’t just discover something he’s sure in a million years he wasn’t supposed to see.

The curly haired boy looks up with tired blue eyes and Steve can’t do anything. All he can do is watch this boy ache when he moves and it makes Steve livid. Saddened. Frightened.

“Billy… I don’t know who’s doing this-” A lie. He’s pretty sure. He has a good inkling, at least. He saw that man. “But they shouldn’t be. You don’t deserve it.”

And now all Steve can think about is how he didn’t believe that statement not 20 minutes ago. Any action Billy made always left Steve begging for a comeuppance. The boy’s an asshole, sure, but… no one deserves this.

Steve is boiling over it. Boiling in a cold sweat because it took this- this horrific moment of realization to realize the boy’s just a kid. Like him and Tommy and Jonathan. Just a stupid 17 year old who does some bratty things.

Billy looks up at Steve and chuckles in tired disbelief.

“You don’t deserve it.” Steve implores, made desperate by the disbelief he sees in Billy.

Billy just looks up at him, looking utterly hopeless, utterly defeated.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Neither can take their eye off the other, and Steve’s sure it’s for different reasons, but his mind is racing, rushing, flooding with his own- with his own concern for the exhaustion that he sees, with his fear of how long this has gone on, with his (truthfully, surprising) anger towards the fact that this boy’s beauty has been bruised and bloodied and that’s a new revelation… beauty…

Billy looks away first. He tells Steve to go. Raises his voice a bit when Steve takes a step in the wrong direction and moves to sit with him. Insists he’ll see Steve at school and it’s all a blur as Steve’s voice doesn’t allow him to say anything.

And in a few minutes of his rushing blood deafening him, he’s back in his car and Everybody Wants to Rule the World comes to life through the speakers as he drives away from this boy that he didn’t know he cared this much about until… until maybe too late.

And Steve’s blood is rushing, boiling inside of him until... until a near calm smile rests on his lips. A small, hopeful smile.

Because Billy promised to talk to him Monday. To keep their dynamic going.

Maybe the ball is back in Steve’s court. And if it is, he’s definitely running with it.

[gamelpar]

It’s All About Fakes (100 sentence prompts fanfic)

Because I suck a writing even short stories or drabbles, I write 100 sentences prompts for the Fake AH Crew instead.

Some of them are inspired by moments in Let’s Play videos, headcanons, social media posts, or just comes straight out of the blue.

Feel free to take inspiration from the prompts or use them.

Prompts are written from a non-shippy perspective, but each prompt can be intercepted in whatever way pleases.

Also my first work, so let’s see how this goes.

Hey, why don’t you read it on AO3 instead?https://archiveofourown.org/works/24787825

1. How the Fake AH Crew got this far is a hell of story, and you can bet it’s one damn worth telling. (Fake it Til’ You Make it)

2. Ray was a sniper; he could spot bullshit a mile away, so how come he ended up in the Fake AH Crew? (On the Spot)

3. Sitting by the wheel of the red minivan Geoff sighed for the 67th time that day, still disbelieving the fact that they were not on their way to carry through a well-planned heist but rather enroute to the beach for some “splashing and slacking”, as Jack had called it. (Sunday Driving - To the Beach)

4. “The Vagabond says: it’s all gonna be murder.” (What the Vagabond Says)

5. Whether it was the Golden Boy or Gavin; Mogar or Michael; they wouldn’t leave each other behind. (Bois Forever)

6. Lindsay---being an absolute goddess as always---supports Jack in her telling for Fiona, and Jack couldn’t have been more grateful. (Women’s League)

7. Matt screws something up; Trevor is there to help him fix it; then Gavin and Alfredo is there to screw it up even more. (Nice Job Breaking It)

8. It’s Bake a Cake Day (according to Gavin) and it’s Gents vs. Lads (insisted by Gavin) and it will also be known as the day when Geoff’s kitchen met its undeniable demise (because of Gavin). (Bake a Cake Day)

9. Long story short: Michael breaks into an animal adoption center for a cat because Lindsay, and Gavin and Ray tags along because why the fuck not. (No Animal Came To Any Harm Except For Gavin)

10. A heavily tattooed man walks into a bar; later, a mad man and a lady in a Hawaii-shirt joins him. (It’s Not a Joke but the Punchline is Fluff)

11. Lindsay and Jeremy have dealt with shit going sideways longer than most people so they know how to make the best of it. (Failure is an Old Friend of Mine)

12. “I hereby announce that the official Prank Wars Week is in session!” (Oh No)

13. The Vagabond might be ready to die, but Ryan knows he’s not. (Ready as I’ll Ever Be)

14. The Lads---and Geoff---gets drunk as hell one night and starts a sock company. (Socks, There’s Socks Everywhere)

15. A boring Fake AH Crew means a dangerous Fake AH Crew and the residents of Los Santos better prepare for chaos. (Boredom Can be a Health Hazard)

16. Ryan gets hiccups and Ray thinks it’s funny until he gets hiccups, too, and soon everyone is stuck with hiccups and everyone blames Ray for some reason. (The Hiccup Disease)

17. When dawn arrives the Fake AH Crew will never be the same again. (Dawn After Battle)

18. Shopping weekends was nothing Lindsay used to do regularly, until Ryan one time decided to come along; then it became a thing. (Stuff We Do Together)

19. Even after leaving the crew, Ray would still have a home to return to. (Home is Wherever You Make it Be)

20. “No---we’re not twins, we’re not brothers, we’re not related in any way, so please for god’s sake, stop asking that.” (Stop the Questions Goddamnit)

21. Jeremy tried to apply more pressure to the wound but as the time on the bomb was running out, so did the blood. (A Mistake You Won’t Live to Learn From)

22. Someone knocks---no, pounds on the door to Ryan’s apartment at 3AM in the morning and Ryan’s still not that happy to being woken up in the middle of the night even if it is Meg waiting behind the door. (Late Night Visitor   or   Expect the Unexpected)

23. “Hey, guys, Fiona here---you’ll never believe this---but I’m stuck in jail and I need one of you to come and bail me out.” (Let’s Bail)

24. Matt is found alone sitting on top of the roof, watching the sunset, but what Geoff finds is someone who needs to talk and so he decides to be that other someone who listens. (Everyone Needs Someone Sometimes)

25. Gavin gets into trouble, which drags Michael and Jeremy into more trouble, and Geoff just wants to have a fucking drink. (Prepare for Trouble)

26. Gavin makes a statement, and Ryan feat. Alfredo makes it a hundred times worse. (Disturbance of Your Own Making)

27. Being welcomed by the sight of a bloodied and battered Gavin through the open door eliminates any tiredness and annoyance Geoff had worked up to having been woken up by a loud pounding on the door at 2AM. (Bloody Brit)

28. That was the way of the Battle Buddies; if one went down, the other had to keep on going, no matter what. (Broken Promise)

29. Nothing lasts forever, and Ray knows that better than anyone. (Never Say Forever)

30. The remaining Gents as well the rest of the Fakes would always be missing a part of themselves from now on. (Parts & Pieces   or   Next Step is to Move On)

31. The alphabet wasn’t enough to cover every brilliant plan the Fake AH Crew had in store, but they never settled for a single letter anyways. (Seven Ridiculous Plans and One That Actually Made Sense)

32. To the Lads, brighter days ahead is just an illusion they can only dream of in the aftermath of a heist gone wrong which claimed the lives of the Gents. (Miserable Lads)

33. It’s a story from being refused of coffee, to wanting to commit suicide briefly, to Trevor having made room for tea-parties with Jeremy, Gavin and Lindsay in his schedule every now and then. (Shut Up and Have Some Tea)

34. Really, it all started when Ray wouldn’t leave Geoff’s house one night. (A Place for Everyone)

35. Usually things doesn’t escalate this far by playing a simple Xbox-game but having ended up in jail, Michael and Matt doesn’t have much of a say about it and Geoff’s pissed. (Hate the Players)

36. Waking up in a dark room tied to a chair with no slightest idea of what the hell’s going on tends to lead to some anxiety-ridden experiences, especially when it is Gavin who finds himself in that situation. (Blackout)

37. No one wants to be the only sober one left to take care of a drunk crew, but with Ray gone Ryan just has to accept that this is his life now. (Trust   or   Sober One)

38. To think it all started that day when Jack saved a drunk man from being robbed in a dark alley. (Mind Your Manners)

39. Neither Lindsay or Michael would force Gavin to put on a brave face after a nightmare; everyone had fears and it was okay to be scared sometimes. (Sharing is Caring)

40. Matt’s life was just another pile of broken pieces until he met Jeremy, and suddenly he had some glue to put the pieces back together. (Glue   or   Glue My Life Back Together)

41. In the temporary apartment Ray was living in at the moment there was a vase by the kitchen window, always holding five red roses. (A Vase Full of Roses)

42. Geoff’s mood could easily be improved a 100 times better with some nice and warm socks. (Can Never Have Enough of Socks)

43. The crew quickly learned that pairing up Ryan and Trevor together would leave a traumatic amount of battered bodies and large pools of blood behind. (Madness In Me)

44. Michael’s life was like a puzzle; bits and pieces all over the place, some fitting, some not, some missing or broken, some didn’t even belong---and Jack standing there in the middle of it all being the only one who seemed to sense some kind of pattern. (Puzzles)

45. The Fake AH Crew weren’t good guys---they never would be---but that didn’t mean they were incapable of doing good, and they were by far the most decent team of criminals that had ever set foot in Los Santos. (Bad Guys Do Good)

46. Tears kept falling, slowly soaking the photo Jack held in her hand of her and the crew---not wanting to forget, yet not wanting to remember. (Remember to Forget)

47. The pink sniper rifle that hung on the wall would always serve as a reminder for the members of the Fake AH Crew that they were not immortal after all. (We Could Be Immortals)

48. Ryan’s an evil mastermind and that frightens Gavin a little, but the Golden Boy reckon it’s time to beat the Vagabond at his own game. (The Reckoning)

49. Kerry Shawcross crosses paths with the infamous Fake AH Crew completely by accident, and all hell breaks loose. (Welcome to Fake Hell)

50. The blood on his hands belonged to someone he knew---someone he cared about---and Ryan had never been more afraid of himself. (There’s Someone There But it’s Not Me)

51. It’s Pride Month and Jeremy really takes it up a notch when coloring his hair this time. (Rainbows)

52. Watching them Lindsay realized that while each of them all had lost so much, they had found even more. (Less is More)

53. Trevor would be better than Geoff ever’d been at scheduling heists and leading the crew, but he still gets to handle all the complaining from the crew so he isn’t as satisfied as he would like to be. (Point of No Return)

54. When the realization strikes him that he’s the only one left remaining, Jeremy falls to his knees in defeat and can’t stop screaming. (What Remains)

55. Fiona can never seem to stop messing with Gavin in any way possible. (A Step Too Far)

56. “Yeah, they’re all idiots---but they’re my idiots, so don’t you fucking dare lay your hand on them.” (A Bunch of Savage Animal Idiots)

57. Times have never been darker for the Gents as each of them struggles to cope with the deaths of the Lads in the aftermath of an coordinated attack. (Falling Inside the Black)

58. The day he met the Wildcard, Michael’s whole world finally started to make some sense. (Wild World)

59. Geoff’s constant drinking worried Gavin sometimes. (Drunk Concern)

60. Matt didn’t believe anyone would care enough for him to consider him family, nor did he believe he would end up in becoming a part of one. (Lost and Found)

61. Alfredo always wondered who Trevor really was underneath his iron suit of armor. (Armor)

62. Even when stuck in a seemingly never-ending coma, Geoff was never alone. (Not Alone)

63. Alfredo joins the Fake AH Crew with more blood on his hands than most people---including himself---would’ve expected. (Red Sea)

64. There’s a perfectly valid reason why Lindsay, despite not being his roommate anymore, is the only one who has a key to Ryan’s apartment. (Key to the Door)

65. Four times Jeremy and Trevor talked their way out of jail and one time they didn’t. (Another Approach to the Problem)

66. Lindsay tried, and that’s why she was still alive, even though everyone else that mattered to her weren’t anymore. (The Fake Among the True)

67. Fiona was her own knight in shining armor and no tower could ever hold her captive for long. (Green Knight)

68. There were days when Jeremy saw a way out, yet the light would always fade at the end of the tunnel, leaving him in the dark. (No Way In, No Way Out)

69. The others would never come back, and Gavin, walking in the wake of that horrifying truth, felt like an empty shell with nothing left to give. (Empty)

70. Trevor would give his life for the crew just like Geoff and Lindsay had. (Third Time Counts)

71. One time for when each of the Fake AH Crew members showed strength and one time when they didn’t. (No Shame)

72. Jack and Geoff shared a special responsibility for every member of the crew, and Michael was no exception. (Nightmare Terrors)

73. ‘Who’s the creepiest motherfucker?’ is a question rather avoided and unanswered. (Creep Contest)

74. All Michael felt now was a burning anger that refused to flicker and fade, and thirst for revenge than could never be quenched. (Road Rage)

75. The last time they all saw each other the city was burning, wounds were bleeding---figuratively and literally---and they never expected to see each other again. (One Last Time)

76. Jack liked to be up in the early, quiet mornings while everyone was still asleep, but she was seriously going to tackle Ryan into bed if she found out he was still awake at 5AM again. (Go the Fuck to Sleep)

77. He’d said he was going to visit, but Ray always pushed the promise further to its limits every time. (Liar Liar)

78. Five times a heist went to hell and one time when it actually didn’t. (Heisting Hell)

79. Not every backstory of the Fake AH Crew’s members is full of shattered dreams and points of no return. (Wanted)

80. Gavin missed home sometimes, but the Golden Boy didn’t. (Two Sides of a Coin)

81. Jeremy’s admiration of monster trucks stretches way back to when he was only a child, walking past a toy store. (Monster Car)

82. “You can leave if you want”, Geoff said, “No one’s going to stop you.” (Freedom)

83. The Vagabond was almost always in control after the Fall of the Fakes, mostly because Ryan let him. (Dead by Daylight)

84. Perhaps the next mishap won’t be so embarrassing for Alfredo, but life didn’t seem to like him much at all. (It’s Life, What Can You Do About It)

85. Four times Geoff said no to either Gavin, Ryan or Lindsay bringing an animal home, and one time he actually said yes. (Animal Addition)

86. So the members of the Fake AH Crew decides to steal their boss’ yacht again and Geoff’s as usual late to the party. (Yacht Party)

87. The crew goes to get some tattoos, and Lindsay is very sure of which one she wants to get. (Tattoos)

88. When Jack falls sick and can’t make her awesome lunch for the whole crew, the crew makes one for her instead (and Jack appreciates it even if it’s a little burned). (Faking the Chef)

89. The day Fiona joined the Fake AH Crew is a day Gavin will very well remember. (Bully)

90. The B-Team is usually there to clean up the messes, except for this time. (Don’t Leave Your Messes Here)

91. The whiskey burned his throat when he guzzled it, and Geoff wished that the liquor could burn away the pain and memories the same. (Burning Bridges)

92. The Fake AH Crew may look like they’re having the time of their lives, but the outside is designed to hide the struggles and issues that lingers underneath. (Inside Out)

93. With the Gents missing, the Lads stuck in a burning building, and the B-team cornered in a firefight, things does not look good. (Already Over)

94. The Fake AH Crew never failed to be impressed by Michael’s colorful vocabulary of swear words. (Words of Color)

95. Jeremy tries to cover up some traces of his past life from the rest of the crew; it does not go the way he wants. (Known to the World)

96. The Ring had been like home, but he wasn’t earning any money being beaten up every round in familiar surroundings, so Michael left---and ended up in Los Santos. (Ring of Fire)

97. The different paths that every member of the crew took for themselves led each of them to end up somewhere they never intended to be, but somewhere they were meant to be. (Pathfinders)

98. It was safe to say that every member of the Fake AH Crew had at least one weird obsession; some had way too many, and some obsessions were just what the fuck. (Obsessions)

99. The Fake AH Crew heists in style, or they do not heist at all. (Do it with Style)

100. The Fake AH Crew is made up of a selected (un)worthy and unique individuals---each one with their own story of whens, ifs, whats, whos, and hows. (Now That We’ve Come So Far)

[vagrantblvrd]

In from the Cold, (1/1)

Summary: The past couple of months have been busy for Ryan.

Notes: Prompt fill for Anon who asked for Freewood with flowershop owner and hitman/spy AU way back at the start of May. :D?

(Read on AO3)

The past couple of months have been busy for Ryan. Running back-to-back missions with operatives from allied agencies that took him all across the globe until a lucky bullet put him down for the count in Bangkok. Left him bleeding out in an alley until a Good Samaritan happened by and took him to a local clinic.

Everything after that was something of a blur until he woke up to Geoff by his bedside with his face in his hands.

Relatively new to the agency, but he looks like he’s been there since the beginning. Takes his agents’ welfare far more seriously than his predecessors ever did and Ryan knows he’s not alone in adjusting to the way things have changed since he was appointed. (No idea what to do with someone who cares.)

Tired and drawn-thin with orders for Ryan to stop fucking doing this to him because he’s an old man and getting older every time one of his idiots ended up at death’s door, fucking hell, Ryan.

Dramatic of him, but Ryan had taken his point.

Promised to be good, once they got him back stateside. Listen to what the medical professionals had to say and let himself heal up before he went out and did something insanely stupid again.

So here he is, puttering around his apartment that feels more alien to him than the hotel rooms and other assorted hovels he tends to live in on missions.

A bit on the dreary side of things, since he hasn’t had the time to put personal touches into the décor. Most of the plants that were gifted to him when he moved in from coworkers and friendly neighbors are dead.

Dry, withered things that make him wince at the sight of them because he’d meant to ask someone to check in on them for him, but things had gotten a little out of hand. Gone from infiltrating a posh gala to gather intel on suspect characters and ended with him teaming up with fellow agents to retrieve nuclear codes and it’s a long story. (Ends with betrayal in the rain and a bullet in his shoulder.)

“Well this is fantastic,” Ryan says, and the little stray staring at him through the window screen in his kitchen meows agreement.

Scrappy little thing, loves to sunbathe in the flower planter attached to the window frame and not at all scared of Ryan.

Won’t come any closer, but the food he leaves out for her on his balcony disappears like clockwork, and she’s no longer so scrawny he can see her ribs.

Small victories.

Ryan looks around.

Thin layer of dust everywhere and nothing feels like the home it’s meant to be. Place to go after the briefings and missions and reports, to remember how to be human.

“Okay,” he says to himself quietly. “Okay, I can do this.”

He can’t roll his sleeves up at the moment, because one, he’s not wearing a long-sleeved shirt, and two, one arm is in a sling, but.

Tackling a task like cleaning his home up and making it suitable seems like something where you’d do that.

Instead Ryan flips the baseball cap he’s wearing around and wades into things armed with a feather duster, garbage bags, and sheer determination.

========

“Oh dear God,” Ryan says, an hour into things, because he forgot about the food he left in the fridge, and it’s not a pretty sight at all.

========

Several hours and a shower later, and Ryan’s apartment is starting to look like someone lives there now and there are no things in the refrigerator.

He’s tired, pleasantly so. Sense of accomplishment and hunger gnawing at his belly that drives him out to the little grocery store on the corner for groceries.

Smiles at the little old lady who asks him to get something off a high shelf for her. Makes small-talk with the cashier as she rings him up. Feels more human as he walks home, feet slowing when he comes across a flower shop he doesn’t remember seeing before.

Quaint place with a sandwich board on the sidewalk in front of it advertising daily sales. Curious stand set up for passersby to pick up a free flower as a courtesy. Brightly colored things with a vial attached to keep them fresh for the trip home.

Ryan thinks about the houseplants he threw out earlier and the lingering guilt in the back of his mind at the waste. How lifeless his apartment feels without them, and chooses a deep red flower, somehow managing not to drop the bag of groceries he’s carrying as he does.

When he gets home he realizes he doesn’t have a vase for the flower and settles on a drinking glass. Sets it on his kitchen counter where he and the stray can see it and laughs at himself because it’s ridiculous, isn’t it.

Government agent (spy) like him, and a silly little flower  (unnecessary, frivolous) in a glass on his kitchen counter and it feels nice.

He keeps glancing at it while he cooks dinner for himself while saving tasty tidbits for the stray, and wonders if the shop sells houseplants.

========

They do.

========

Ryan is...not a plant expert.

Has no idea what he’s doing, really.

Ends up browsing the plant selection along one side of the shop. Flowering houseplants and herbs and other things he doesn’t know the names of. Recognizes from seeing them on the desks of his fellow agents and support staff at work and wonders if he’d be able to keep any of them alive given his frequent trips.

He’s considering an odd looking succulent when someone bumps into him. Ryan stiffens, turns to face whoever it is, cold voice voice in the back of his head admonishing him for not paying attention to his surroundings. For forgetting. (It sounds like his former superiors, and leaves him unsettled.)

“Are you alright?”

The man who bumped into him is wearing a work apron with the shop’s name emblazoned across the front. A handwritten name tag that says “Gavin”. British accent and a wild shock of hair. Too-big nose and blue-green eyes.

Frown on his face as he looks Ryan over, checks to see if he’s alright since Ryan still hasn’t answered him. The apologetic smile on his face drops away to open concern when his gaze lands on Ryan’s sling.

“I’m fine,” Ryan says, smiles to back that claim up. “Don’t worry about it.”

Gavin’s frown deepens, as though he’s not entirely convinced, but he huffs out a little laugh along with another apology.

Notices the small succulent Ryan’s still holding and makes this little cooing noise.

At the plant.

“Oh, she’s a lovely one,” he says, looks up at Ryan with this smile. “Do you have any at home?”

Ryan isn’t sure what’s going on.

“Uh, no,” he says. The plants he’d been given were hanging plants and flowers. Nothing like this strange little plant. Looks a bit like aloe but with prominent white stripes. “But I’ve heard it’s supposed to be hard to kill.”

Might survive him and his absences, even.

Gavin grins, and Ryan’s sure he must get customers in here all the time who say something along the same lines.

“Do you have pets?” he asks, something Ryan hadn’t considered before.

Thinks about the little stray and the fact that fall is just around the corner, and cooler weather with it. Rain. Frost. Early snow, if last year was any measure.

“...Yes,” he says, even though he’s not sure the stray would agree with him.

Gavin doesn’t question it though, just turns to the plants on display on the low tables set out and selects another succulent. Fat little leaves growing in a rosette pattern, touches of color at their tips.

“You might want to try one of these,” he says, cheeky little sales pitch. “The one you’re holding is safe for pets, but this is another lovely one and also on the hard to kill end of things.”

Ryan considers the plant, short stubby thing, and realizes he’s more than a bit out of his depth here in more ways than one.

Looks up at Gavin, that little smile on his face like he knows, and sighs.

========

The stray’s curious today, pacing back and forth on the other side of the balcony kitchen window as Ryan contemplates the best arrangements of his new houseplants.

The zebra plant he was initially drawn to and several other succulents. A spider plant for the living room. Several others he’s worried will die in his care sooner or later, but Gavin had been so enthusiastic about them and Ryan -

Well.

He’s a weak, weak man at loose ends until his shoulder heals and Lindsay’s always telling him he needs hobbies, isn’t she? Things unrelated to work, something that will help him wind down after a stressful mission.

So.

Looks like he’s going to give plants a try, see if he can’t keep them alive long enough to count as an actual hobby and not an impulse buy.

“Fingers crossed, huh?” he asks, and gets a flatly unimpressed look from the stray.

Ryan laughs, and turns on the television to watch the news as he fusses with the plants. Frowns at a reporter looking solemn as they drone on and on about a string of jewelry store robberies and rise in unrelated break-ins and daring burglaries and the like over the last few months. Only thing of significant note the fact they take place around sunset.

No new leads but unusual for the city, local police concerned about the rise in crime asking viewers to call a hotline they’ve set up it they see any suspicious activity.

Ryan hums to himself, and spares the stray a glance when it lets out a plaintive cry.

“I don’t suppose you know anything about that, do you?”

Ryan’s odd sense of humor and an old, worn out joke involving cats and burglaries and honestly, part of the reason he gets along half as well as he does with his co-workers.

========

Ryan’s not completely off the hook when it comes to that last mission, no.

There are meetings and conferences. Investigations and Ryan tired and hurting and facing down official and legal counsel from their sister agency over their operative who’d gone rogue on them. Sold their country out for the guarantee of a cushy retirement somewhere tropical – Ryan’s never seen the appeal, all that sand – and done their level best to kill Ryan as well.

Didn’t seem to think the fact better people had tried and failed, thought they would finally be the one to succeed.

He gets Geoff’s tired sighs, aggravated noises in private before they face the long, exhausting spectacle of it all. His staunch support at his side while others are trying to tear apart Ryan’s accounts of events. Insist he’s lying, dragging a dead man’s name through the mud to cover his own wrongdoing as though Ryan wouldn’t be more clever about things.

Laughs to himself when he mentions that to Geoff over lunch one day, and gets to see the man choke on his salad, sputtered “Jesus Christ, Ryan, don’t say shit like that,” because spies and paranoia and Geoff’s a good man but also a naive bastard if he thinks Ryan’s enemies don’t already know that about him.

Lindsay and the others check in with him when he’s not facing an inquisition, text him random things they think he’ll find interesting or at least entertaining. Call him up to pick his brain over some technical snag or logistic problem with a mission still in its planning stages.

Strange little community, family they’ve become over the years due to the nature of their jobs and the bonds it creates. (Out of familiarity and necessity at first, although it became choice a long time ago.)

========

Ryan’s understandably wary about buying too much in the way or perishable foods in case he’s called away for work longer than expected after the Fridge Incident. Makes daily trips to the corner grocery store, which somehow ends up with him stopping by the flower shop on the way as well. (Picks up one of their free flowers to brighten his apartment up, add a little cheer.)

Gavin’s always happy to see him, comes over to talk if business is slow at the time. Ask after Ryan’s plants, helps him when one of them is doing poorly. Shares pictures of the strays that loiter in the alley behind the flower shop he’s trying to befriend and all the ridiculous names he’s come up for them when Ryan mentions the stray that’s adopted him in its own way.

Ryan’s not completely socially inept, but this is definitely different from charming a target or dealing with fellow agents and support staff. This is -

It’s kind of terrifying, because he’s startlingly fond of Gavin and his rambling nonsense. Little stories about his coworkers at the shop, people Ryan’s met in passing and always seem busy. Delivering orders to customers or handling events for clients, in and out all the time.

Leaves the two of them time to talk, and Ryan’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not.

(Unnecessary, frivolous, but.)

“Ryan!” Gavin’s smile lights up his face and Ryan -

Oh, he thinks a little helplessly. Oh, no.

========

Ryan is an idiot.

========

“I mean, yeah,” Geoff says, snatches the unopened can of diet soda from his hand. “You really are.”

Ryan’s not sure why Geoff’s here, poking around his modest apartment and stealing his diet soda, but here they are.

They’re not friends in the conventional sense, but there’s something more to it than their working relationship. Something that lets Geoff unwind in Ryan’s apartment, loosen his tie and kick his shoes off. Give Ryan this little smirk like maybe they are friends, and Ryan just hasn’t caught on yet.

“To be fair I don’t know what you're talking about? But you, Ryan. You are definitely an idiot.

Ryan sighs, getting up to take another can of diet soda out of his fridge. Watches Geoff sitting in his kitchen looking as relaxed as Ryan’s ever seen him. He’s got the newspaper Ryan picked up on his morning jog spread out in front of him, frowning over a news story concerning another jewelry store robbery. (Used to work for the FBI, according to the rumors, before Burnie lured him to the agency to make things right.)

“Thanks, boss.”

Geoff cackles, gestures to the kitchen window and the stray watching them through slitted eyes. Basking in the warmth of the late afternoon sun in its planter.

“When did you get a cat?”

Ryan shrugs.

“Hell if I know.”

He’s a dog person, but the damn thing has claimed Ryan’s planter as its own and climbs into his lap when he sits out on the balcony with a drink and book to read and what is he supposed to do about that?

Geoff eyes him, thoughtful edge to it, and laughs.

“See that? Right there, Ryan? That’s you being an idiot.”

========

He’s not wrong.

========

Gavin’s coworkers are...odd.

Strange.

Suspicious as hell.

“Gav’s not here,” Trevor says, light, airy tone, but steel in his eyes.

The three of them don’t seem to have set days off, rarely work together the same days. (Not that Ryan’s    looking for patterns, routines. Using those observational skills of his the agency honed to use because he still feels at loose ends, no.)

There’s just something about Trevor that unsettles Ryan.

Co-owner of this quaint little flower shop who as it happens is not Ryan’s biggest fan, and sure as hell not shy about letting Ryan know.

The door to the shop swings shut behind Ryan and he feels trapped.

Hairs on the back of his neck and urge to go for his weapon, but this isn’t a mission.

This is a quaint little flower shop a few blocks from his building and the coworker of someone Ryan’s gotten far too attached to for anyone’s good.

And yet here he is.

Trevor’s watching him with this frown – one Ryan belatedly realizes is only for him. Eyes sharp and assessing in a way that unsettles Ryan.

“Ah,” Ryan says. “I see.”

Trevor’s eyebrows go up, and Ryan winces.

Government agent of the “spy” variety and an absolute disaster dealing with anything not related to his work. Amazing.

“Maybe you can help?” Ryan asks, even though he’d prefer to slink out of the flower shop with the way Trevor’s looking at him. “One of my plants isn’t doing well, and I’d hoped I could get advice on what to do?”

Trevor tips his head to the side as he squints at Ryan. Pinpointing weak spots perhaps, or the best way to kill him and hide the body afterwards. (Ryan’s mind flashes back to plays he was in, once upon and time and smothers a laugh, barely manages to keep from asking if they have Venus  flytraps in the back.)

“Maybe,” Trevor says, mimicking Ryan. Smiles, faint. Definitely amused by Ryan. “Why don't you tell me what you’ve done to the poor thing and we’ll see what we can do, hmm?”

========

Alfredo is another odd one.

Friendly smiles and bright laughter that covers this sharpness to him Ryan’s hard-put to describe.

Easy to see why the customers in the flower shop linger when he’s helping them. Like to chat about things going on in their lives, tease and joke with him.

It’s not just good salesmanship, it’s -

“Oh, hey, Ryan!”

Unsettling in a completely different way because he’s disarming. Makes people want to trust him, and Ryan can feel himself being drawn in despite himself from time to time.

“Alfredo,” he says, not surprised they’re the only ones in the shop.

It’s early still, on a weekday and people are headed off to work and dropping their children at school. A million and one things to do and not enough hours in the day.

And then there’s Ryan, fresh from his morning jog and still this restlessness to him afterwards.

“Is it here?”

Alfredo grins as he looks through the notes they keep behind the counter. Service numbers in case something goes wrong in the shop and repairs need to be made. Delivery numbers for online orders and so on. A handful of customer numbers and the relevant information for those like Ryan who’ve requested a special order for plants and supplies they don’t keep on hand due to lack or space or wider interest.

“Oh-ho,” Alfredo says, and flashes Ryan another grin. “Look at this!”

A delivery receipt for a company in town, and Gavin’s signature at the bottom.

“Hold on a minute and I’ll get that for you.”

Ryan doesn’t fidget while Alfred goes into the backroom, he just.

Explores.

Wanders over to a display stand on the counter a little further down. Odd little plants in tiny terrariums that claim to be hardier than other indoor plants Difficult to kill and perfect for those looking for a unique plant for their homes or offices.

Hand-painted pots from local artisans. Odd bits and bobs like keychains and refrigerator magnets for plant lovers. Seed packets for those looking to start butterfly gardens and so on.

“Here we go,” Alfredo calls out, singsong note to it as he emerges from the back and sets Ryan’s order down on the counter.

Looking at it, Ryan feels ridiculous because it’s –

< i>Unnecessary, frivolous.

“It’s a beauty,” Alfredo says, giving Ryan this smile like he knows. “You have a name picked out?”

Ryan laughs, little huff of breath as he pulls the small potted plant closer.

“Still thinking about it,” he says, and wonders how much grief he’d get from Geoff and the others for naming is new Venus flytrap it after a certain killer plant from outer space.

========

If Ryan’s being honest with himself – and to be honest, he rarely ever is – Gavin’s a bit on the odd side of things as well.

Little things about him that ping the edge of Ryan’s finely-tuned radar for trouble that he pushes aside because...Because.

That smile of his and his cheerfulness. Way he laughs at Ryan dumb little jokes and stands far too close for someone he barely knows when Ryan stops by the flower shop for advice on his plants (and honestly, the internet is right there at his fingertips, isn’t it?) or pick up something he didn’t know he needed for them. (It’s a learning process he’s woefully slow about.)

Gavin is sharp in a way Ryan’s learned to watch out for. Covers for it well with that aforementioned smile and cheerfulness, but he’s...there’s something to him that doesn’t quite sit right with Ryan.

Clever and bright and as he learns one day when he walks into the shop to find it empty, part mountain goat.

“Hello?” he calls out, instantly wary because it’s the weekend when there tend to be a fair amount of customers about the place, Gavin or one of his co-workers behind the counter or helping said customers.

There’s a clatter from the back storeroom. A clunk, a rattle and then a harried sounding Gavin.

“I’m in the back!” he yells out, and, “come on back!”

Ryan glances around as though he could be talking (yelling?) at anyone else, and hesitates before he steps behind the counter and heads through the doorway into the storeroom.

He doesn’t see Gavin at first, but it’s easy enough to follow a trail of knocked over supplies and other things to a corner of the storeroom. Look up, and there Gavin is a good ten feet off the ground and moving about the storage shelving there instead of using the ladder Ryan can see less than five feet from him.

The height doesn’t seem to bother him, let alone the dangerous footing. Moves as easily as he would if he were on firm ground, and glances down at Ryan with a cheerful grin.

“Ryan!” he greets, “just the person I wanted to see!”

Ryan’s glad for the dim lighting back here, because spy he may be but he he still hasn’t mastered involuntary reactions like blushing. (A failing for someone in his line of work, surely.)

“Oh?” he says, and bites the inside of his cheek when Gavin laughs at him as he snags a box on the shelf above him and makes his way down the shelves with easy confidence.

Gavin drops the last foot off the ground and turns around to show Ryan the box he grabbed, and gestures for him to follow him into the work area.

Ryan follows him, curiosity piqued as Gavin sets aside pieces of foam and cardboard to reveal a little clay pot with stylized flytrap plants painted on it and curving, twisting vines curling around the entire thing.

“I almost forgot this,” he says, little grin on his face as he glances at Ryan. “That special order you put in reminded me about it.”

Ryan stares at the pot and can’t help the stupid little smile he can feel stealing across his face thinking about re-potting Audrey II into it like the dork Lindsay and the others are always accusing him of being.

========

Ryan’s always had the worst luck.

========

It doesn’t seem to matter how careful Ryan is, something like this always happens.

Always.

He’s moved several times since he joined the agency, made it a habit after the first few years and one too many coincidences he suspects weren’t.

Past time to have moved from his current apartment, to be honest, but sentimentality and something else has kept him here. (Someone.)

Whatever his reasons it’s a moot point, considering the current situation.

Annoyed, because things were going so well for him for once. He was so close to being reinstated, had something of a life outside work, and now there’s another hole in his shoulder. Too damn close to the first and bleeding like a son of a bitch.

His fault, for allowing himself to develop routines while he’s on medical leave. Patterns. Made himself predictable, allowed his enemies to set up a trap and bait him into it.

And now there’s a broken off blade in his sill-healing shoulder (it seems to be a magnet for things like that) and a dead enemy agent behind him along with Ryan’s phone that bravely took a bullet for him.

Something close to fear in his chest and too far from home. (Guilt building up with each painful step because there’s someplace closer he thinks might be safe, and resignation because somehow it would turn out like this.)

He makes it to the alley behind the flower shop, thankful for the heavy downpour that’s driven people inside, fewer potential witnesses. Knocks on the back door and hopes like hell someone’s close enough to hear it.

That there aren’t any customers to deal with, other complications he hasn’t considered -

And then the door opens.

Ryan stumbles back, hisses softly as the motion jars his wound, and looks up to see Gavin standing there, eyes widening as he takes in Ryan’s battered state.

“Ryan?”

Ryan opens his mouth to answer, but the words don’t come.

Doesn’t know what he could say to explain himself even if they did.

Thankfully Gavin doesn’t seem to care, already moving to help him. Slips a shoulder under Ryan’s good arm and guides them inside. Leads Ryan to a stool in front of a workstation of sorts and eyes him with something more than concern.

“Can you sit up on your own?” he asks, strange sort of familiarity in this sort of situation that speaks of past experience.

Ryan nods, hand pressed to his shoulder as he watches Gavin go over to a counter and pull a sign out of a drawer. For the front door, and he catches a glimpse of it before Gavin slips into the shop proper, an apology for being closed but Gavin’s gone before he can read it fully.

He recalls seeing it in being used before and the excuses one of the others gave him afterward and not thinking twice about it. The way Gavin’s moving now, with such purpose makes him wonder if he should have.

Hears the sounds of Gavin pulling the blinds and shutters closed, locking up behind him before he comes back, phone in hand.

Pauses with his thumb over the call button and glances at Ryan.

“Ambulance?” he asks, and nods to himself when Ryan shakes his head.

Bad idea at the moment, speaking from personal experience. Ryan should put a call in to Geoff, the agency. Get a team out here to deal with the mess, have their people handle things, but he’s so tired.

Doesn’t know what he’s doing here, why he’s not doing a damn thing as Gavin calls someone. Talks too quietly for Ryan to make out what he’s saying and the concern he should feel nowhere to be found.

Tired.

Aware that whatever else happens now, things are going to change between them. Already have, with the way Gavin’s acting.

No longer the slightly clumsy co-owner of a quaint little flower shop and more...something.

Someone who knows how to react in a situation like this, isn’t nervous or panicking. Flustered. Just this calm sort of efficiency to his actions, clear protocol in the steps he takes.

From the quick assessment of Ryan’s current state to making sure other people – civilians – don’t wander into this little mess unsuspecting, to whoever he’s called to alert them.

Gavin hangs up and turns to Ryan, expression Ryan can’t read on his face.

Shaky little sigh and then Gavin pockets his phone and goes over to the counter he pulled the closed sign from. Takes out a hefty looking first-aide kit and comes back over to him with a little detour to turn the heat up as he does, wry twist to his mouth.

“Well then,” he says, tries for a light tone even though the look in his eyes is anything but. “Why don’t we see what we can do about that nasty wound of yours, hmm?”

Ryan blinks up at him, feels like he should be asking questions. More so as Gavin picks through the little plastic box, setting out medical supplies and muttering to himself.

Little laugh as he brings a desk lamp over for better lighting and Ryan tries to help, get his shirt unbuttoned, but his hands are clumsy from the cold and everything else and he makes a mess of it. Stops when Gavin places his hands over his and laughs, eyes sliding away fro Ryan’s as he helps him out of his shirt.

“Can’t say this is how I saw things going,” Gavin says, another awkward little laugh and dusting of red high up on his cheeks.

Ryan – doesn’t know what to say to that, so he doesn’t say anything at all.

Gavin clears his throat and mumbles something Ryan doesn’t catch as he shakes off whatever nervousness took hold and sees about doing what he can with the supplies at hand.

There’s this...Gavin makes this noise when he sees the bullet wound, fingers ghosting over it before he moves on to seeing about the knife wound.

“I don’t have the proper medical tools to remove it,” he says apologetically when Ryan tells him the blade’s still in there. “Probably for the best you get someone qualified to see to it anyway.”

He keeps Ryan engaged, chattering on about nothing and handing him things to hold. Nudges him with his knee when Ryan’s mind starts to drift, presses his fingers into his shoulder causing a slight sting and yanking his mind back to the present with a murmured apology.

Trevor and Alfredo show up just as Gavin’s double-checking his work, stopgap measure at best that he apologizes for several times, but he’s already done more than Ryan expected when he made his way here.

“So,” Trevor says, taking in the mess before him, Ryan included. “This is quite the pickle.”

Gavin continues cleaning up, neatly avoiding Trevor’s eyes and ducking around Alfredo who seems content to watch things unfold.

Ryan...should definitely be more concerned about all of this, the way Trevor’s looking at him, but can’t seem to when Gavin comes back to stand beside him. Puts himself between Ryan and the others and his heart trips over itself in his chest at that.

“Trevor,” Gavin says, layers of meaning to it Ryan can’t hope to understand as they stare each other down.

Alfredo shuffles his feet and clears his throat pointedly when the tension in the room rises, gestures at Ryan who’s just sitting there like an idiot. Thoughts slow and stupid, far from the top agent he’s supposed to be because he’s not doing anything about this, is he.

Just letting things play out like it has nothing to do with him and honestly, it would be nice if that were true, wouldn’t it.

“This changes things,” Trevor says, and Ryan knows that tone of voice, doesn’t he. The slight shift of his stance from an odd sort of civilian to someone who very much is not. “We can’t - “

Ryan gets to his feet because nothing good ever comes after a statement like that, and it’s clear he’s made a mistake. Let his guard down when he shouldn’t have, forgot his training and all the lessons he learned the hard way.

Much as he tried to ignore the signs that something was off about this quaint little flower shop and its owners, that he just couldn't turn his training off there’s no way to interpret the shift in the three of them.

Trevor’s a threat. Alfredo’s a threat. Gavin’s a threat, much as it hurts to think of him that way, and he can’t continue to sit there letting things play out any longer.

Ryan stands, but his body betrays him. Blood loss and pain, shock, strain on his body – all of it – finally catch up to him as the world tips sideways on him.

He hears Alfredo's low swearing as he reaches for him, sees Gavin start to turn back and the world fades out before he hits the floor.

========

“You’re an idiot.”

First thing Geoff says when he gets to the hospital Ryan woke up in, which had been a surprise given the last thing he remembers. (Honestly a surprise he’d woken up at all, with the way Trevor had been looking at him.)

Geoff is in a chair beside his bed radiating an enormous amount of disapproval at him, and Ryan?

He’s just confused.

“I know,” Ryan says, pokes gingerly at his shoulder and the thick swathe of bandages there. “Thanks for the reminder, though. I really needed it.”

He’s not even being sarcastic about it, which seems to throw Geoff for a moment. Has him eyeing Ryan like he’s worried he hit his head and failed to tell the doctors. He might have, actually, that last little bit in the back of the flower shop.

“Ryan - “

Ryan’s not looking at him now, watching a bird winging its way past his window. Sky cold and gray, storm clouds rolling in over the city to match his mood since waking earlier that day.

“Any sign of them?”

Quaint little slower shop setting up business in Ryan’s neighborhood while he was gone on a mission and hadn’t given a second thought to being there. New businesses popped up all the time like it, shopping about for good locations to set down roots and hopefully turn a profit.

Nothing suspicious about it, and the young men running it were so sweet and charming. Kind, and so knowledgeable about the flowers and pants they sold. Ingratiated themselves with the other local business, the community.

No reason to be suspicious about it, even when he should have known better. Trevor and Alfredo and the way something about them seemed ever so slightly off, but he’d been distracted, hadn't he.

Saw a pretty face, fell hard, because Gavin was kind and didn’t push, wonder, about the half-hearted lies Ryan fed him. Had this energy, light to him that drew Ryan in. Snared him easy as anything, even though he knew better. (Should have.)

Never would have pegged him as a thief, though. Three of them leaving behind enough clues to point to a heist they were forced to abandon, months in the making and Ryan nearly bleeding out in their little flower shop to ruin it.

The spate of jewelry robberies and other burglaries that had happened since the flower shop opened. Odd days off one or more or the three of them would take, easy explanations for it that just rolled off the tongue.

No trace of them aside other than a handful of clues about their next target, a rare set to be on exhibit at the museum in a few weeks time. Only window for them to grab it when it arrived in the city, jumble of faces around it and risky as hell but doable.

Sounds too bizarre to be true, and yet -

And yet.

Ryan’s always had the worst luck.

He’s surprised they didn’t leave him to die in the back of their shop. Sure as hell no incentive for them to help him, even less reason knowing they’d have to abort their heist. Run, before their...activities were discovered, careful lies and plans unraveling under the agency’s scrutiny, police involvement.

Geoff’s staring at him.

“You know,” he says, quiet, thoughtful. “When we got the call from them, we thought you were dead?”

Wouldn’t be the first time, the way Ryan’s luck runs.

Presumed dead several times over and always coming back like a bad penny.

He says as much, and can’t help the touch of amusement at Geoff’s aggravated sigh, frustrated growl.

“Jack warned me,” he mutters, scowling now. “Asshole warned me when I took the job. Told me what assholes you all were and I’d be lucky if I didn’t have an ulcer in the first six months.”

Ryan looks over at him then, curious.

Geoff cares, and the rest of them have long resigned themselves to working for people who didn’t. Saw them as expendable. Assets. Threw them at the current problem and no skin off their nose if they didn’t survive, because God knew there would be more recruits fresh out of the academy to take their places.

Geoff, though.

He cares.

Worries about them, the kinds of missions they get handed because their agency’s gained a reputation for taking on the most dangerous missions. Incredible success rate and never mind the cost.

They’re still adjusting. Learning to trust Geoff’s different, that he and his people are working to change the way the agency works. Put their people first. (When they can, because sometimes there’s no other choice.

“Just out of curiosity,” Ryan asks, “how long did it take?”

========

There’s a big to-do about the attack on Ryan.

All these security concerns and everything else that turns the agency even more on its head than when Geoff came in and started to rip out the roots past Directors planted years ago.

Something of a conspiracy from the remaining old-guard and those loyal to them and Geoff and those loyal to him have Ryan quietly relocated. And relocated again, because paranoia and all the things that come with his job.

No one can confirm if the attack was related to his last mission or something else. Old grudges from enemies he’s made over the years or someone discovering his status as an agent, to some as of yet unknown reason.

It’s the least reassuring thing in the world, and exactly what he was expecting to learn.

Ryan’s own bad luck and the nature of their jobs.

They put a security detail on him while he’s recovering from his latest injuries, because Geoff won’t take no for an answer and Ryan’s learning to accept that.

Still.

“Hey,” Michael says one day, disgruntled look on his face as he lets himself into Ryan’s place. “Got your mail for you.”

Ryan looks up from the newspaper he’s reading where he may or may not be looking for stories about recent robberies or burglaries. (Stupid of him, he knows. Foolish in the worst way.)

It should be annoying, really, the way the agency’s handling this. Michael and the others assigned to it not quite barging into his private life as...he doesn’t have the words for it, and is surprised he doesn’t mind it as much.

Blames Geoff for that, changing the way the agency operates and encouraging them to forge bonds with one another that was once frowned upon. Going from what amounted to work acquaintances to something more to the point Ryan doesn’t bristle at the thought of someone else collecting his mail.

(Security reasons for it too, scans and checks and that paranoia in action.)

He’s not an invalid, can make the trek down to his mailbox just fine, but he gets tired easily and some days it doesn’t seem worth the effort.

“Oh,” Ryan says. “Thanks, Michael.”

Michael eyes him when he notices what section of the newspaper Ryan’s reading. Looks like he wants to say something and just shakes his head before dropping Ryan’s mail in front of him.

“Yeah, sure.”

Ryan knows the agency is looking for Gavin and the others as well. Unsure if they were somehow involved in the attack or otherwise connected. Why they bothered to help Ryan knowing it would compromise their own operations and concerned at how completely they’ve disappeared off the face of the Earth.

A lot of questions there, and no luck in finding a hint as to where they’ve gone.

Ryan sets the newspaper aside and sorts through his mail, pausing on a brightly colored postcard. Gorgeous photo of a beach in Miami from the name emblazoned across the front in elegant script and brief description when he turns it over.

No message, just a little doodle of a Venus flytrap that has Ryan staring at it too long, because Michael notices.

“Something to be concerned about?”

Nice and casual, but when Ryan looks up it’s clear Michel knows the postcard means something. He might not know what the significance is, but he’s far from stupid.

“...No,” Ryan says, knowing what a risk he’s taking. With whoever sent the postcard (he knows, though, he does) and with Michael.

They’ve known one another or years, and Ryan’s always counted him among the small group of people he works with he could trust. (For whatever that’s worth.)

Michael gives him a long look – far from stupid – and shrugs.

“If you say so,” he says and goes off to check in with the team across the way.

========

Later that night Ryan does a quick online search and discovers several news articles about a spate of jewelry store robberies ad daring burglaries that took place in Miami recently.

Unknown suspects and so on and so forth that sounds far too familiar.

Ryan should, he knows, should bring it to the agency’s attention. Inform them there’s a possibility said crimes are related to Gavin and the others, too coincidental to be anything else, and yet?

He doesn’t.

No.

He deletes his search history, scrubs it from his laptop and harddrive, goes overboard with it because it’s what he knows and tucks the postcard away in the drawer of the table Audrey II sits on.

========

He gets more of them over the next few months. Always a new city, new state and all these news reports from those locations he uncovers after the fact.

Enough to make him wonder what Gavin’s playing at, hoping to gain from any of it.

Michael pretends not to notice, and the others assigned to babysit Ryan do the same.

And it would be fine, it would until Ryan comes home from his morning jog one day to find Lindsay cooing at something on the other side of his kitchen window while Geoff looks on.

“Uh,” Ryan says, sharing a look with Michael. “Lindsay? Geoff?”

Lindsay continues to coo, babbling nonsense and tapping her nails against the screen. Geoff turns to look at them, expression on his face that has Michael going to Lindsay to drag her out of Ryan’s apartment.

She protests, calls Geoff and Michael heartless buzzkills, but still lets Michael pull her away.

An impressive enough feat once Ryan goes over to see what had her so entranced.

It’s the stray.

Happily sunning itself in Ryan’s new planter he hasn’t bothered to plant anything in with the fall in full-swing and colder weather on the way.

“Oh,” Ryan says, because he hasn’t seen it since the agency relocated him. Tried his best to put it out of his mind because there were other, larger concerns than one small stray he wasn’t sure he wanted in his life anyway.

He’d done a terrible job of it though, sneaking away from under the noses of his babysitters to go back to look for it more than once with little luck. Realized it had run off to harass some other unsuspecting idiot, worm its way into their reluctant affections the way it had with him.

“Looks like your cat found you again,” Geoff says, and it’s a mix of Ryan’s boss and Ryan’s friend looking back at him.

Worried about the implied security risk to Ryan and God knows what else, because.

It’s fall and while the weather hasn’t turned terribly cold just yet, there’s a definite chill in the air once the sun goes down. Noticeable shift in temperature.

The stray’s sunning itself in the planter, yes, but there’s also a pet bed with blankets place on the small balcony that Ryan knows for a fact wasn’t there when he and Michael left for his morning jog. Bowls of food and water.

Ryan tears his gaze away from them to look at Geoff, unsure what to say.

It’s possible the stray might have somehow found him all the way across the city after being relocated twice. He’s heard about the incredible journeys pets will go on to find their owners after being separated from them, but something like this is more difficult to explain away as part of that phenomenon.

But like Michael before him, Geoff just gives him a look.

“I always heard you don’t choose a cat as much as it chooses you,” he says, sarcastic as hell. “But I never expected to see proof of it like this.”

The stray opens its eyes and lets out an accusatory cry when it spots Ryan, right on cue.

========

The postcards trail off after that, so slowly Ryan almost doesn’t notice. It coincides with Geoff lifting the extra security precautions and being cleared to go back light duties so he doesn’t have time to dwell on it.

The fact that Geoff saddles him with a rookie lifted from some shady government agency or other around the same time helps in that regard too.

Jeremy’s bright in a way Ryan doesn’t remember being when he came to the agency, but he supposes that makes sense.

Ryan had half a decade of experience by the time he was handpicked by the agency’s former Director. Knew the dangers and risks inherent in their job all too well by the point and already had quite the collection of scars to show for it.

He’s also a quick learner, and a few short months after the two of them are partnered together the two of them end up in a coastal city in Italy.

Scenic, picturesque.

Enough so that Ryan finds himself playing the part of tourist while he and Jeremy scour the area for signs of the target they’ve been sent to find. (Eliminate if necessary, although Ryan’s hopeful it won’t come that.)

Jeremy’s snooping around a mansion overlooking the town while Ryan listens in to his end of things over their comms. Wry observations and quiet humming as he evades security guards and staff alike, no  nervousness or alarm in his voice.

Ryan finds his eye drawn to a rack of postcards at a little kiosk in a marketplace and is looking though them when someone bumps into him. Ryan stiffens, turns to face whoever it is, voice voice in the back of his head chiding him for not paying attention to his surroundings. (It sounds like Geoff. Tired and long-suffering and this underlying concern for the lives, people he’s responsible for, Jesus Christ, do not make me have to do the paperwork on you if you get yourself killed on the clock you assholes.)

“Are you alright?”

The man who bumped into him is wearing a button-down shirt with the top two buttons undone. British accent and a wild shock of hair. Too-big nose and eyes obscured by a pair of sunglasses.

Seems friendly enough, but there’s this touch of wariness to him like he’d bolt if Ryan says the wrong thing.

He frowns as he looks Ryan over, checks to see if he’s alright since Ryan still hasn’t answered him, gaze lingering on Ryan’s shoulder before meeting his eyes.

Ryan, for his part, can’t seem to stop staring.

“I - “ he manages after a long moment. “No, I’m fine.”

Gavin smiles.

Small, crooked.

“That’s good to hear,” he says, and glances at the postcards Ryan was looking at before he picks one up.

Photo of the coastline with the town behind it as the sun sets in background and breathtakingly gorgeous.

“I’m rather partial to this one,” he says, and there’s a note of mischief to his voice Ryan doesn’t remember hearing before but finds that it suits him perfectly.

Thinks back to the postcards he’s received, most with photos taken at sunset or just a little afterwards with the sung hanging low in the sky and night starting to set in.

“Oh?” Ryan hears himself say as he takes the postcard from him.

Gavin laughs, and then winks as he pays the kiosk owner for the postcard.

“Consider it a gift for running into you,” says, as the two of them amble along to avoid drawing attention to themselves. “I’d offer to buy you a drink instead, but I’m afraid I’m just passing through.”

Ryan looks at him from his peripheral when they stop on a section of the marketplace overlooking the docks. Notices the way Gavin’s watching a boat down there, pair of figures already on board.

He still seems calm, relaxed but still has that edge of wariness to him.

Ryan’s sure he’d be gone like a shot if he says the wrong thing. Hop over the railing and down the pier faster than he could hope to catch up to him along with Trevor and Alfredo. Maybe he’d just turn and bolt into the crowd around them, lose Ryan in the crowd while the other two take off to rendezvous somewhere else.

Some other scenario Ryan hasn’t even considered.

And maybe, maybe, if Ryan wasn’t here for a mission, if he was still the same Ryan from a year or even a month ago he would do what’s expected of him.

But he is here on a mission, and he’s definitely not either of those Ryans.

Isn’t really sure what kind of Ryan he is these days, is still working on finding that out for himself.

“Maybe some other time then,” Ryan suggests, because there’s always something with them, isn’t there.

Timing gone wrong somewhere and no way to change it he can see right now. Maybe one day if they’re lucky.

Gavin laughs, and it’s the same as Ryan remembers. So is the bright smile on his face when he looks at him.

“Sounds lovely,” Gavin says, and Ryan’s sure it will happen when the time is right for both of them. “I rather think I’d like that.”

========

The mission is a success and Ryan comes home to find Lindsay’s coaxed the stray to come inside when checking on things for him while he was in the field.

“Only for a few minutes at a time,” she says as she lets herself out now that he’s back, “but, hey, it’s a step in the right direction.”

A welcome one at that, with winter nipping at their heels and threats of snow on the way.

The stray’s skittish, hides under the couch and whatever else it can find but willing to be talked into coming close for a tasty treat.

There’s an envelope waiting for him postmarked from Italy. When he opens it he finds a postcard inside with a collage of landmarks of Rome across the front and a message on the back.

”For that other time,” with a phone number to go along with the Venus flytrap doodle.

Ryan’s sure of what he’d find if he looked up news reports from Rome around the time Gavin and the others would have been in the city, so he doesn’t. (Wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise when Geoff comes to him about it because he’s been keeping tabs on a certain group of jewel thieves.)

No.

Ryan laughs as he commits the phone number to memory and adds the postcard to the collection already there and looks forward to what the future holds in store.

[azritesx3]

“A Devil’s Love” Chapter 6: I Believe In You

Description: Chloe’s best friend is back, and Lucifer’s charm can’t seem to affect her either. Is she also a miracle child? Or something…more? [Story starts during S2 Ep4, Female Reader Insert]

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AN: Updated March 15, 2020 - Grammer AN: Updated July 21, 2020 - Grammar

Rating: Mature Warning[s]: Swearing, Gore

Show Timeline: Season 2 episode 12 and 13

Spotify Playlist /// AO3 Fanfiction Net Wattpad DeviantArt

Tag List: @ayanna-wild​, @anushay1998, @emiwrites3reads​, @i-am-canada-13​, @heart-of-pots-and-pans​, @tinyybiceps, @jessicarene99​, @lucifersnipnips​, @givemebooksorgivemedeath​, @sailor-earth-1

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A week has passed since you left your "nurse" to heal on your own.

Within the first two days, your body had completely healed. The rest of the five days you spent planning with Alice for the grand opening of the "Circle of Life Veterinary Clinic #2", and also helping out Chloe with any cases since it seems her partner was avoiding her.

When Chloe called you to say she couldn't find any evidence linking Charlotte Richards to the second bomb, thank God, she told you about her "talk" with Lucifer.

Apparently their talk consisted of Chloe explaining how she has been feeling and what made her kiss him, even after he declared all of his flaws to her. Lucifer said nothing, according to Chloe. He just listened intently, and when all was said and done he said he needed to think. Chloe agreed to give him time, but she started expressing her concerns to you after the third day of silence.

Honestly, you couldn't blame Lucifer. You hate talking about emotions too, and Lucifer didn't seem like the kind of guy who easily dealt with this kind of stuff. It's probably why he has a therapist.

However, Lucifer hadn't been completely silent this week. He did text you every day. First, it was just to make sure you were doing well healing, then it just became friendly chatter. You did question him on why he was giving Chloe the silent treatment. You expected him to ignore the question. Instead he shocked you by answering.

What if it's not real?

It looks real to me, Lucifer, and to others.

Yes, well, I'm starting to think that the Detective is no longer immune to me. She has been with me too much and now my charm is coming off on her. She might even be no longer immune to my power...It'll probably happen to you too.

...uh, what? :confusedemoji:

Ah. Never mind, darling. So, not missing my shower, yet? It sure misses you. :devilemoji:

And, that was that. You didn't dare tell Chloe about it, one because she'd be just as confused as you, and two she really didn't need to get the wrong idea about that shower comment.

Today's the day of the grand opening, and everything is going smoothly. Your new workers are happily greeting the pets as well as the owners while handing out coupons, pamphlets on the pet health care, and answering any questions. Alice sits at a booth with a couple of the receptionists taking down new client info and signing up those interested in the insurance. You stand in front of the big red ribbon, talking to the press and answering questions while you wait for the time to tick to 9 am.

Your phone starts ringing Chloe's tone. You excuse yourself and head inside your clinic to answer.

"What's up, Chlo?"

"Hey, Earth. I'm sorry to bother you, but I need you to do something."

You love your BFF, really you do, but you can't cancel this opening. Not only would it be embarrassing, but you were starting to run low on cash, "No problem, so long as I can do it over the phone."

"Don't worry, I know this opening is important to you." You hear her sigh, "This case I'm currently on is...it's bad, Earth. I'm thinking psychopathic bad. Premeditated murder."

Oh shit, "Damn, Chloe. Look if you need me I'll-"

"No no. Focus on your opening today. If I don't get this solved today maybe you can help me tomorrow."

"The opening isn't all day, Chloe. I'll help as soon as it's over."

"You're going to have a lot of first patient paperwork. Take this day for that. Look, I'm calling to ask you to talk to Lucifer."

"He still isn't talking to you?" Yes, you do agree with him needing time because emotions suck, but now it feels like he's stonewalling your friend.

"No. Ella's too busy with this case right now, and I know Lucifer won't even consider listening to Dan. I'm hoping he'll listen to you."

"Alright, Chlo. I'll get your partner back to you."

"Thank you, Earth." You can just feel the tension release from her over the phone, "Tell him to meet me at the Malibu State University so I can catch him up on the case."

"You got it." You hang up and see the time is 8:50 am. You sigh and click on Lucifer's contact number.

Time to come out of hiding you Devil.

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"Lucifer." Linda looks at her Devil patient like a stern mother rather than his therapist at the moment, "You're stalling."

Lucifer finishes his glass of water and leans back on the couch, "I don't know what you're talking about, Doctor."

"You do, Lucifer." Linda's voice becomes stern and matter of factly, "You and Chloe finally reach a point in your relationship where it can move romantically, but after the kiss, you left. After Chloe confesses to you, you push her away. You won't even talk to her, but instead, talk to someone else."

Lucifer shifts on the couch, slightly uncomfortable with where this conversation was going.

"Lucifer." Linda's able to get his eyes to stay on hers, "Who is Earth to you? How do you feel about her?"

"I don't know what you want me to say, Doctor." Lucifer is agitated now, "K9 is just a human who's fun to be around."

"She's also another human woman who is immune to your charms. Another human who you can't get to reveal their desires." Linda eyes her patient carefully.

Lucifer clearly fidgets on the couch. He doesn't speak. Instead, he looks to the window.

"I want you to tell me how you felt when you first met Chloe, to how you felt meeting Earth." Linda interlaces her fingers and rests them on her crossed knees. She waits patiently for his reply.

"Well, after the first day with the Detective I felt that she was a puzzle to solve." Lucifer looks at his therapist with a little smirk, "The first human woman to be completely immune to my charms and power. She's a puzzle and I feel a...a connection to her. A need to solve her, to watch her and be around her."

"Mhmm," Linda nods, "and Earth?"

"K9?" Lucifer's smirk forms into a smile. He gives a light chuckle, "From day one I thought of her as a sassy minx, didn't even care that she wasn't attracted to me. Truthfully, I would be too focused on making sure I had a comeback ready for whenever we'd pass each other in the precinct." His eyes start to look far away, lost in memories.

"That real estate case was the first time we talked more than just in passing. I found that we both enjoy many of the same things and we share common views on various topics. I just-" Lucifer stops.

Linda urges him on, "You have to continue, Lucifer. How do you feel around her?"

"I feel...comfortable with her. I have fun with her, enjoy spending time with her. She doesn't believe in me being the Devil either, but I feel like she tolerates it better." His mind drifts to how you reacted to seeing his scars.

"Maybe there's a reason as to why…" Lucifer whispers this thought to himself.

"Lucifer, I see these two types of romantic feelings often." Linda didn't hear his comment about you, "There's one where someone claims that they feel a connection with the other, which is usually referred to as 'soulmates'-" Lucifer laughs.

"And," Linda continues, "There's the 'normal'. When two people meet and feel nothing until they get to know each other more. Chloe is your 'connection' and Earth is your 'normal'."

"So, which one is the correct choice?" Lucifer's eyes plead to her, "I don't want to mess this up!"

Linda's heart breaks for him, "I can't answer that for you, Lucifer. What you need to do is find an answer to this question," Linda leans forward:

"If Earth never came back, had never entered the picture, would you still be giving Chloe the cold shoulder?"

Linda Martin has never seen a person look as lost as Lucifer Morningstar right now.

"I…" Lucifer's phone starts playing "Who Let The Dogs Out". It's the ringtone you set for yourself after you showed him how to give everyone their own personal alerts.

"It's K9, Doctor. She doesn't usually call-"

"It's ok, Lucifer." Linda gives him a knowing smile, "Our time is up anyways."

Lucifer nods a farewell to her and leaves her office, "K9! To what do I owe the pleasure of having a phone call from you?" Lucifer's smiling ear to ear as he walks out of the building and to his car.

"Chloe called me. Again." You sound annoyed.

His smile falls, "Oh…"

"Look, Lucifer. I get it ok? Feelings are a pain in the ass to deal with, but enough is enough. You're really starting to hurt my best friend and you know I won't stand for it."

Lucifer sighs, "I understand, K9. I just-"

"Lucifer, this call wasn't about you. Chloe needs her partner back."

Lucifer pauses in his walk hearing the worry in your voice. He stands a few feet away from his corvette, "What's wrong?"

"There's a new case and it," you sigh, "it doesn't sound good, Lucifer. This guy is bad, really bad. I can't be there for her today and I don't want her to get hurt." Lucifer doesn't reply right away, and that worries you.

"Lucifer. Chloe isn't going to ask you about anything, ok? She's too focused on stopping this guy. She can't do it without her partner."

Partner...that's right. I'm the Detective's partner, Lucifer thought.

"Well, I suppose I can't leave my partner hanging," Lucifer smirks and finishes the walk to his car.

"No, you can't." Lucifer can tell you are most likely smirking as well, "Not anymore anyway. It's really a dick move."

"Yes, yes." Lucifer sits in his car and starts it up, "Now, where does my partner need me?"

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The grand opening was a huge success! The clinic has plenty of clients to start off with, and more would surely come when people learned just how well of a veterinarian you are.

You sent your workers home to relax for the first official workday tomorrow. Currently, you and Alice are organizing all the new client paperwork in their respective folders for your receptionists.

But you're starting to have a really hard time focusing on the task. Chloe has been giving you hourly updates on the case, and each new piece of information was making you more and more concerned.

This is no ordinary killer.

Alice noticed you starting to slow down and told you she could handle the rest. Normally you would disagree with her, but this case was one a Captain of any department shouldn't avoid. You give her thanks in a hug then fly out the door and into your new car, courtesy of the police heads.

As you drive to the precinct you call Chloe to let her know you're free. She tells you that she and Lucifer are heading to a college party where the next poison victim, Ashley, was currently at. She gives you the address of the second victim, Dr. Gwendolyn Scott, and tells you Dan is currently there with her to make sure she doesn't do this guy's bidding.

When you arrive at the precinct you tell your second, Christopher Miller, to round up a small team and three K9's, and that one of the K9's has to be the new pup, Buster, along with his partner, Jessica Blanch. As he left to do as you ask you go into the female locker room and change into your K9 uniform. When you come out you tell your team the situation, and give them the address to Dr. Scott's house. You couldn't send any with Chloe as much as you wanted to. It would blow her cover at that party.

You arrive at the house and station your men and two of the K9's around the outside of the home. You tell Blanch that she and Buster are to guard the inside.

"Hey, Dan." You approach Detective Dan Espinoza, or as you liked to refer to Lucifer's nickname for him "Detective Douche".

"Hey, Earth! I'm glad you could join in. This guy is…"

"Yeah...it was hard for me to focus during the opening knowing that a person like this was out here." You cross your arms to hide the slight shiver that ran through you.

"That's right, your next clinic! Did everything go well?"

"Yup, better than I expected honestly."

"Well believe it or not, I've heard talk around here about the 'amazing Veterinarian Earth on the east coast'." He winks friendly at you.

"Oh really?" You give him a laugh and a sarcastic look.

"Yeah! I'd overhear convos from new K9 recruits about you. The look on their faces when I told them you used to work here was priceless."

"So that's why I got a whole lot of star-struck eyes when I came back." You and him both share light laughter, "So," you didn't want to, but this friendly chatter had to end, "where's Dr. Scott?"

Dan takes a sidestep and motions with his head behind him. You see a clear line of sight of the Doctor sitting in a formal living room. Blanch is introducing herself and asking permission to roam her home. You see Dr. Scott give a warm smile to her and a nod of approval while she scratches Buster's head.

"How's she doing?" You whisper to Dan.

"As good as one can be when they know they're in charge of someone's life." Dan sighs solemnly.

"Yeah…"

Dan's phone rings and he excuses himself. You walk over to Dr. Scott and introduce yourself, "Hello, Dr. Scott. I'm Earth, Captain of the K9 unit." You hold out your hand and she shakes it. Her palms are sweaty from nerves.

"Hello, Captain. One of your crew just told me how well you are at your job." She smiles at you.

"Aw, Blanch is just a suck-up." You give her a wink and she actually manages a laugh, "You doing alright Doc?"

She sighs, "Honestly, no. I just keep thinking...what if I don't do as this guy requests? Would I really be ok knowing that my decision to say no would end a young girl's life?"

"Do you mind if I watch the video ma'am?" She shakes her head and stands to walk to her desk. She pulls up the email with the video and plays it for you as she sits back in her chair.

This guy...with his dumb mask and "superior" tone of voice made your skin crawl. He was telling the Doctor that in order to receive the antidote to cure Miss. Ashley, she had to destroy her right hand.

God...Why do people like this exist?

The video ends as soon as Dan walks into the room, "Detective Decker called me ma'am." He's speaking to Dr. Scott, "Her and her partner found Ashley at the party, but unfortunately it looks as though she's already been poisoned."

You watch as the Doctor visibly slumps in distraught, "What should I do, Detective?"

"Don't do anything, Doctor. Ashley is at the hospital now and the doctors are working on an antidote. I'm sure they'll make it in time."

Dr. Scott forms a look on her face that mimics how you were feeling.

They won't be able to make it.

Dan leaves the room. You shut off the computer.

"Captain, what should I do? What would you do?"

You don't answer.

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A few hours pass before Dan receives another call from Chloe.

It's not good news.

"She doesn't have much time left, Dan. The Doctors at the hospital can't figure out the antidote."

"Then it is specially made," Dan replies, his face is grim. You stand next to him to hear the conversation.

Unfortunately, Dr. Scott is close enough as well. She heard.

While Dan is still on the phone you hear a rattling noise. You left his side to investigate, and are horrified by the display that's about to happen in the kitchen.

"GWENDOLYN!" You yell the Doctor's name and hold your hands up. When Dan hears you yell he hangs up on Chloe and runs to you, and holds his hands up.

Dr. Gwendolyn Scott stands in front of her kitchen sink. The garbage disposal is running and her right hand is hovering over the opening.

"Dr. Scott, don't do this." Dan pleads with her. You can't speak.

"If I don't do this, Detective, an innocent woman dies. How can I compare my hand to her life."

"Doctor-" Dan starts, but it's too late.

Doctor Gwendolyn Scott shoves her hand into the garbage disposal. You want to vomit as you hear her scream and see blood and bits of flesh erupt from the sink.

Doctor Gwendolyn Scott is a hero.

Dan runs to her, as well as Blanch who hears her screams. You stand still, but find your voice long enough to call for a medic dispatch and Chloe.

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Chloe and Lucifer arrive shortly after the medics have Dr. Scott on a gurney and finish bandaging her ruined hand. The two of them talk with her, Dan steps outside to get air after that gruesome scene, and you-

You're still standing in the same spot. Your focus entirely on the blood and bits of brown skin that cling to the countertop and sink.

This guy is a monster.

"And I thought you looked fit before, but now." You choke on air as your body jumps out of your skin. You whirl around and see Lucifer standing behind you with a hungry look.

"You look delicious in uniform, K9. You should wear it more often."

"I only wear this on important cases, and did you really have to use the word 'delicious' in this scenario?" You give him dagger eyes. You hold your chest to breathe evenly again.

"Hmm." Lucifer looks at the carnage behind you, "Good point." He smiles down at you, "But at least I got you to stop looking at it."

You look up at him, and can't help the tug at your heart. A corner of your mouth lifts slightly, "Yeah...thanks."

Lucifer just continues to smile at you, but now there's a twinkle in his eye.

"So," you cross your arms and smile fully at him, "How's it feel being back with your partner?"

"It was bloody weird." His sheer bluntness made both your eyebrows go up.

"Only at first though. Thankfully, the Detective seems to be back to her 'normal'." Lucifer plays with his cufflinks and side glances in Chloe's direction.

"What happened?"

"She slapped my bum, made inappropriate jokes over a dead body, and suggested making out in the library."

You burst into laughter.

"It's not funny! It was bloody terrifying!" Lucifer complains.

"She was just trying to be more like you, Lucifer." You manage to choke out in your laughter, "Are you saying you're not attracted to yourself?"

"Not if it's the Detective trying to roleplay as me." He visibly shivers and that makes you laugh even more.

The sound of your K9s barking outside the front door immediately cuts off your laughter. Captain mode takes over and you stride away from Lucifer and out the front door to see what was going on. As you pass by Chloe she rests her hand on her holstered gun and gives you a nod.

Miller has a delivery man stopped on the walkway. When you walk over the man says he has a delivery for Doctor Gwendolyn Scott. You question him on who gave him the package, but the man says it just showed up in his pile of runs.

You take the package from him and tell Miller to take him to the station to get an official statement. You go back inside and hand it over to Chloe.

You stand on the other side of the Doctor's gurney, and Lucifer chooses to stand next to you as Chloe unravels the contents.

She looks up and stares at the three of you.

"It's the antidote."

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Dan and Chloe drove to the hospital to give Ashley the antidote before it was too late. Lucifer decided to stay with you to "help" you clear out the Doctor's house and wait for the cleaning crew to finish in her kitchen. You noticed Chloe giving him a "look" when he chose to stay behind. You question him about it and he just shrugs saying, "Hospitals are dreadful places."

As soon as the cleaning crew finished Chloe called you saying to come to the precinct ASAP with Lucifer. Her and Dan were able to get a link between Ashley and the first poisoned victim.

"I had a feeling this case would be an all-nighter." You tell Lucifer as you hang up and you both walk to your car.

"No rest for the wicked, darling." Lucifer smiles devilishly at you. You smile back.

As you two walk into the precinct, you give Alice an early morning text update. You tell her you most likely won't be able to make it in the clinic for the first day. Surprising you, she texts back saying "Good thing there are no major surgeries :winkieface:".

You hate not being at your clinic for the first official day. You and Alice interviewed the workers and other veterinarians extensively, but you always like working the first couple of days with them to make sure they were good. Thank God you have Alice, who you trust wholeheartedly.

You and Lucifer walk into Ella's lab where Dan and Chloe are waiting. You notice that look again on Chloe when Lucifer stays near you while Ella explains the new information.

Dan and Chloe were able to find out from Ashley that she had received a flu shot earlier in the day. Ella was able to find out that the first victim also got the flu shot the same day he was poisoned. Thanks to the information Ashley gave and what Ella could dig up, both students received their shots by Dr. Jason Carlisle.

"Dr. Jason Carlisle?" Dan says in shock.

"You know him?" Chloe questions.

"I know of him. Here," Dan goes to the computer in the room and pulls up traffic security footage. You all watch as this Dr. Jason Carlisle crawls out of a turned over vehicle. In the footage, you can see the driver of the vehicle asking the Doctor for help, but instead the Doctor grabs his briefcase and runs away as the vehicle explodes, killing the driver.

"Hmph. Some doctor." You cross your arms and shake your head at the actions on the video.

"Yeah. After this was televised Dr. Carlise lost his medical license and all respect from his peers." Dan replies.

"He's probably the one responsible for creating these poisons and their unique antidotes." Ella points out.

"He's doing this to show people how he felt he had no choice," Chloe says.

Lucifer scoffs, "Everyone has a bloody choice."

"So, how do we find this guy?" You ask the room.

"Attack his ego." Lucifer says and everyone looks at him, "I know his type. Attack his precious ego and he'll make himself known."

"That's the stupidest thing-" Dan starts but Chloe leaves the lab in a flash and sits at her desk. Everyone, but Ella, follows the Detective and sees that she's pulled up an email and is writing to Dr. Carlise.

Dan is trying to get Chloe to stop, but you and Lucifer are encouraging her. Both of you tell her various ego-tripping things to write, and even though Dan tries to stop her, Chloe hits send.

In less than thirty seconds she receives a reply, and it's a video call. She opens it up and all four of you stare at the man with the mask. Chloe tells him we know who he really is and why he's doing this. The Doctor removes his mask and explains his experiment and how the police presence in Doctor Scott's household "made" her choose to destroy her hand.

You call him out on his bullshit, receiving a low high five from Lucifer, and how Dr. Scott was planning on destroying her hand from the start. Dr. Carlise doesn't believe you and pans the camera to show you all how he already has another "experiment" happening as we speak. He explains the circumstance and ends the call.

Chloe and Ella do quick work in tracing the call to a hospital that Dr. Carlise was rivals of. Chloe pulls Lucifer by the arm to get him to follow and after a look from you, he obliges.

She's your partner. Protect her.

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"This case is now top number one of the worst cases I've been on." Chloe flops down on her couch next to you with a full glass of wine in hand.

Chloe asked you to come to her place to unwind after the hell this case has been. You agreed because you could tell she needed to vent.

She starts talking about the situation that happened over at the hospital Dr. Carlise was holed up in. She talks about how she and Lucifer had to watch helplessly as the Doctor dropped poisonous gas onto the floor, making her and Lucifer unable to just break into the room to save the two students. She talks about her fear of leaving Lucifer alone in that situation in order to catch the Doctor.

She downs her drink quickly after talking about watching the Doctor slit his own throat in front of her. How she watched the life leave his eyes and neck.

But then, without the wine's help, she becomes giddy and warm. She tells you about how happy and relieved and thankful she was when she saw Lucifer step out of the building completely unharmed. She didn't even think to question him about it.

"I immediately hugged him and said how we do make an amazing team." She says with a far off gaze to her empty glass. She then looks at you with a smile and wet eyes, "He said 'This is real, isn't it?", and ...well."

"It's official now?"

"Yeah."

"That's wonderful, Chlo!" You pull your BFF into an immediate hug while ignoring whatever that feeling was in your chest. She laughs while holding back tears, and hugs you back. You two talk about other things for a while, then Chloe excuses herself to the bathroom.

You become concerned after ten minutes of her absence.

"Chloe? You ok?" You get up from the couch and go up to her room. You knock on the open door.

"I...I don't know…Earth!" You push into Chloe's room and into her bathroom at the sound of her voice. She's standing in front of her sink, which has piles of bloody tissues in it.

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"DETECTIVE!"

Lucifer Morningstar storms into Chloe Decker's apartment furiously. He looks around the kitchen and living room to see she wasn't there. A noise from above gives him a direction.

"DETECTIVE! DID YOU KNOW?!" Lucifer yells as he storms upstairs.

"THIS WHOLE BLOODY TIME, DID YOU KNOW?!" Lucifer stomps into her room and sees the bathroom door open.

"DETEC-" Lucifer stops when he sees you holding Chloe by the shoulders.

You look at him, wide-eyed and terrified, "Lucifer…"

"What-"

"Lucifer," Chloe speaks now in a garbled tone. You allow her to turn around to face her partner.

Lucifer immediately steps into Chloe's personal space at the sight of her red eyes and bloody nose.

Chloe cries, "It won't stop."

---------------------------------------------------------

You stand inside Ella's lab, waiting for the energetic little ball of happiness to come in. You feel bad asking Ella to come in this late at night and after just finishing the last case, but Ella told you not to worry. An emergency is an emergency and it's her job.

Your fingers tap rhythmically on the table in stress. Seeing your BFF being poisoned by something that no one can make an antidote for, except the guy who just committed suicide, really terrifies you. At least, with the help of Lucifer, you were able to convince Chloe to go to the hospital instead of here.

You hear the door open and look up expecting to see Ella. Instead, your heart drops at the sight of Lucifer and the woman who should be in the fucking hospital.

"Why the fuck-"

"Calm down, Earth." Chloe holds up her hands to you, "I told him to bring me here."

"Yes, much to my disapproval," Lucifer mutters.

"Chloe-"

"You know me, Earth! I can't just sit by and do nothing when I know I can help!" Chloe says.

"But for how long?!" You move to stand right in front of her, "Chloe, you exerting yourself could make this thing spread faster! We already only have twenty hours if that!"

"I know, Earth!" Chloe can feel Lucifer's hand on the small of her back. She takes deep breaths to calm herself, "I know. Look, I'll be careful, and if it gets too much I swear I'll go to the hospital. But, I need to do something."

You just cross your arms and head back to the table. Ella shows up and Chloe gives her a rundown on the situation without telling the poor girl who the real victim was. Ella explains how they did find some poison on the Doctor's body, but the antidote that went with it had been destroyed. Chloe, Lucifer, and you all share a look.

Then some man you've never seen before is calling Lucifer's name and Lucifer pulls the man into the interrogation room. Seeing as how Ella and Chloe didn't seem to question the strange commotion, you decide not to say anything. Lucifer is a strange guy after all.

Ella starts listing out all the beginning signs of the poison, which makes Chloe turn paler and paler. To derail the talk of it you ask if anyone else could have access to the antidote formula. Ella didn't believe so, but Chloe pops in with the hope that maybe the guy who smuggled the stuff might know something. She didn't believe the Doctor would trust that stuff to be handled by just anyone.

She leaves the room to get Lucifer, but when you offer your assistance she says she wants you to stay with Ella, and eventually Dan, to help think up an antidote. Your heart felt strange when you saw her and Lucifer leave the building, with him being closer to her than usual.

She's dying. They're together. You told him to protect her.

You wipe the feeling away and turn to Ella. This was Chloe who was dying, and you need everyone to be working at their best.

You tell Ella the truth.

---------------------------------------------------------

Lucifer and Chloe have been gone for about an hour and a half now. Dan showed up not too long after the two left and you, him, and Ella have been working together to try to at least figure out all the ingredients for the antidote.

Lucifer's ringtone starts playing on your phone and you answer it.

"Lucifer-"

"She fainted, K9." He sounds scared. You never imagined hearing Lucifer Morningstar sound scared, "I'm taking her to the hospital now."

"Alright, I'll be right there." You hang up and look up to Dan.

"Dan. Get Trixie."

He didn't even have to ask what for. He was out the door in a flash. Ella told you she'd keep working and to give Chloe her love. You nod and head out the door as fast as Dan did.

---------------------------------------------------------

The early morning sun has now risen. Chloe now only has about ten hours left.

You sit in Chloe's room chatting with her about the situation. When you see Lucifer standing at the window you get up and give Chloe a hug. You leave the room and watch from a distance the two of them talk.

You hear Dan and Trixie sign in at the desk behind you, and Lucifer leaves the room just as the ex-husband and daughter come to the door. You notice Dan give Lucifer a look of disapproval before entering the room, and one of your hand’s balls into a fist in your crossed arms.

One of the reasons I dislike that guy. He always puts the blame on someone else.

"I'm sorry." The sound of Lucifer's distress pulls you from your thoughts. You walk to stand in front of him, arms still crossed.

"What for?"

"I didn't protect her. Couldn't protect her. I thought I had by sending her after him, but-" Lucifer starts spilling out. You unfold your arms and place a strong hand on one of his arms, stopping him.

"Lucifer." You stare up at him, "This wasn't your fault. I don't blame you. I blame the bastard of a Doctor who stabbed her with the needle." You let go of him and step to his side so you could watch the tragic family scene through the window.

"I hope you're right about there being a Hell, and I hope he's being tortured as we speak."

"He is, darling. Trust me." Lucifer turns around to watch the scene with you.

"Good. Wish I was the one torturing him, though." You sigh, shoulders slumped, "I'm going to get one of my K9s and just chill here. If she…" you choke up but swallow it, "I'll be here if you need me." You give Lucifer a pat on the shoulder and turn to leave.

"K9."

You stop a few feet from the exit door. You turn your body to face him and your heart breaks at the emotion on his face.

"I promise you, I will get the antidote." Lucifer's tone was serious, but his eyes looked wet. Yet...you felt drawn to him. You could tell he meant what he said.

He always tells the truth.

Unable to contain it any more, tears fall down your face. You run to him and wrap your arms around his neck. You stand on your tiptoes in order to hug him fully.

You're surprised that he doesn't even hesitate to hug you back. He always hesitates when someone hugs him.

"I trust you, Lucifer." You pull him even closer, and only feel slightly ashamed for probably ruining his suit jacket, "I believe in you."

---------------------------------------------------------

Chloe Decker now only has about three hours left.

And you could do nothing.

Lucifer had promised to save her, to somehow get the antidote formula. You had no clue how he could get it, or why you seemed to trust him. You haven't seen him since you hugged him. You've tried texting him to find out how it was going, but he didn't reply. So now you were concerned for his safety because he always replied.

Dan and Ella were having a hell of a time just trying to get the ingredients. Ella texted you not too long ago saying that they're just missing one more, and she thinks she knows where to get it.

And what are you doing? You're standing outside the doors to the lobby area. If you sit in the lobby you'd be looking too much into Chloe's room window, and from the talk of the doctors that were walking by it didn't sound like she was doing too good.

You can't watch your best friend deteriorate so fast in front of your eyes. Besides that, you feel like you would get in Trixie's way. She hasn't left her mother's side since she arrived.

You hear Buster whine, and you scratch his head absentmindedly. When you left Lucifer you went to the precinct to grab the first K9 you saw. For protection for Chloe, and comfort for you. You love your dogs.

Buster nudges his nose into your palm. You look down at him.

"What is it, bud?"

He whines some more.

Sorry…out…

"It’s not a problem, bud. I could use some fresh air anyways."

You take Buster to the small green area across the street from the hospital. You lean up against a tree and look up to the sky. You take a deep breath in of city air, and can't help but imagine Chloe never taking a breath again. Never growing old or seeing Trixie grow into a wonderfully strong woman. Never playing with possible grandchildren. Never being happy with Lucifer--

You release the breath, "Well, if Heaven's real then she'll be with her dad at least."

You look back to find Buster, "Come on boy." He trots to you and you both walk back across the street and into the hospital.

"Captain!"

You see one of the hospital security guards run to you, "The patient, Chloe Decker, has to move to another room, but there's a man who's blocking the way! He's pushed aside every one of us!"

You nod to the guard and head for the stairwell. You and Buster run up four flights and push through the lobby door.

You watch as two more security guards get tossed aside like dolls back into the lobby. You stride forward, gun aimed and Buster between your legs, "HANDS UP, NOW!"

The man turns around. It's the same man that called for Lucifer in the precinct.

You squint at him suspiciously, "Who are you?!" Buster growls beneath you.

The man looks surprised, "So you're Earth, or well, I guess I should be saying K9."

You grip your gun harder. Buster feels you tense up and walks a bit closer to the man, teeth-baring, "Who the hell are you?!"

It's like he just realized now what kind of predicament he's in, "I'm sorry," he holds his hands up to you, "I'm Amenadiel, Lucifer's brother."

You snort.

"Captain! He won't let me get my patient to a more appropriate room!" The doctor yells from behind Amenadiel.

"Well, as Lucifer's supposed brother, you should know he wouldn't appreciate someone getting in the way of saving Chloe's life." You keep your aim trained on Amenadiel’s chest.

"I do know that, and that's why I can't let Chloe leave this room."

Now you're confused, "Why?"

"Lucifer is getting the formula as we speak, but Chloe needs to stay right here."

"Why?"

Amenadiel shakes his head, "You won't believe me. Look," he puts his hands down and takes a step towards you. You stand your ground and Buster barks at him in warning, "Do you trust Lucifer?"

You’re quiet for a beat. You carefully study this "brother", "I do."

"Then please, do not allow Chloe to leave here." You can hear the pleading in his voice. He wants you to believe him.

You look over his shoulder to see Chloe becoming paler in her bed. She starts to shake from a seizure and the doctor's nurses hold her down.

The doctor looks at you, "Please! She needs help!"

You look between her, Amenadiel, and Chloe.

I trust you, Lucifer. I believe in you.

You release air through your nose and holster your gun. You order Buster to guard the door and not let anyone in or out. You stand next to Amenadiel, "I know she does, Doctor." You cross your arms and stand firm.

Unbeknownst to you, Amenadiel looks at you with interest.

"Chloe Decker is not leaving this room until Lucifer Morningstar returns with the formula."

---------------------------------------------------------

You aren't a rogue cop for long.

You feel somebody grip your shoulder from behind. You whirl around ready to punch whoever it was that got past Buster, but your fists immediately turn into hands of support.

“Lucifer!”

He looks like he just came back from the dead. His clothes are completely disheveled and he's sweating profusely. He holds onto your shoulders tightly and you keep him upright by his underarms with the help of Amenadiel.

He mutters out the formula to the doctor and she runs off to make it with the ingredients Ella dropped off not too long ago. You and Amenadiel move him to a chair in the room, but he refuses to sit and instead leans against the wall. Amenadiel leaves quickly, and you’re left “alone” with Lucifer.

“Lucifer…” You start to choke up again. He looks so awful and it’s breaking you.

What did he do?

“Lucifer.” You can’t stop the tears again. You let them fall free while you use both hands to hold onto his face. You wipe the sweat from his brow and try to straighten his hair, “Are you ok?”

“She’ll be ok now,” he breathes out. He looks over at Chloe, “That’s all that matters.”

“No, Lucifer. That’s not all that matters.” He looks down at you, eyes filled with confusion.

He’s waiting for you to say something, but you’re too choked up on emotion.

I hate emotions, too.

You just wrap your arms around his neck like the first hug, except this one was different. Tighter, different emotions unspoken. He does hesitate on this hug, but eventually his arms find their way around your waist and he holds on tight.

He rests his head on your shoulder, “Earth…” he breathes on your neck.

You remove your head from his shoulder and he does the same from yours. You both stare into each other's eyes deeply. One of his arms snakes it’s way up your back so his hand can hold the back of your head. Your faces start to come closer together, but you can’t tell if he’s doing it or you, or maybe both.

“I have it!” You both blink at each other, seeming to wake up from whatever force was pulling you both. You both look to the side to see the doctor holding a syringe. A nurse puts a tube inside Chloe’s vein and the doctor rushes over. You twist around in Lucifer’s arms so that your back is to him.

You expected him to remove his hands, but instead he keeps one arm around your waist while the other hangs onto the wall. You feel him tug you closer as you two watch Chloe’s vital signs fall back to normal.

“It worked! She’s going to make it!” The doctor says happily. You smile at Chloe as new tears fall from your eyes.

You didn’t see Lucifer’s face turn grim.

---------------------------------------------------------

Lucifer was with Chloe when she first woke up. The two talk briefly before he leaves and tells everyone in the lobby that she’s awake now. He watches as Ella, Dan, Trixie, and you rush into the room. He looks from the window all of you smiling, laughing and hugging Chloe.

He puts his hands in his pockets and stands firm. After one last look at you, he leaves.

---------------------------------------------------------

Three days have passed since Chloe’s poisoning. She had to stay in the hospital for the rest of that day just to ease the doctor's mind that she really was cured. You stayed with her that day along with everyone else.

Except for Lucifer. After you greeted Chloe from waking up you left the room to look for him, but the receptionist said he had left. You thought nothing of it. He had looked to have a rough day after all.

But after twenty-four hours of zero response you started getting worried. Chloe kept asking for him and nobody, including yourself and Maze, seemed to be able to get a hold of him.

In present time you're at your clinic. It's past 9 pm and everyone went home for the day. You stayed behind to lock up and look at patient reports for the day. You finish putting the reports away and counting the money. Just as you lock the front door Chloe’s ringtone went off.

“Chloe, you alright?” You answer as you get into your car.

“He’s gone, Earth.” She’s trying to keep from crying, “I’m at his penthouse and he’s...everything’s covered in sheets.” Chloe can't hold the tears in any longer.

“He’s gone!”

[rock-em-sock-em-rock-n-roll]

Blueberry Pancakes (The Dirt! Nikki/Tommy)

Chapter 4: The Smoothie Indecent 

Tommy’s POV

I couldn’t believe what was happening. Nikki Sixx was taking me on a date. A real live date. He drove me to a diner, because I hadn’t eaten a full breakfast. At least that’s what I thought before I sat down and realized that this was the exact place we met. This was the diner I spotted him at after the show where he got punched in the nose. This was the diner where I saw him and thought “Fuck. He’s even hotter when he isn’t dripping blood like a faucet” . This was the same exact seat where I sat next to him for the first time. He hadn’t just taken me to a diner, he took me to my favourite place in the world.

This whole morning had been so sentimental. First, he makes me pancakes -like I ordered when we first met- then he takes me to the place we first met. Kind of a backwards order, but it was the sweetest thing. I couldn’t help but smile. I couldn’t help but grin like a fucking maniac.

“So, uh.... Nice place, right?” Nikki asked, looking nervous.

“Yeah, man! You remembered!” I felt like a schoolgirl in love, but I didn’t mind one bit.

“So did you,” he said, sounding a little surprised, as if I would ever forget. Then he started laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“Do you-” He cut himself off by chuckling into the back of his hand. “You took my poster off your bedroom wall.”

I scoffed, and said jokingly, “Do you want me to put it back up?”

I loved how happy he looked.

“Nah, you don’t need to. You have the real me, now.”

Okay, was he trying to kill me? He must have been. I was sitting across from him, but I crawled under the table, getting a laugh, and slid in next to him. I gave him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. He was so fucking perfect.

He giggled (yes, giggled), and squeezed me into him, so we were in sort of a hug. But it could pass as a friendly hug, if anyone ‘important’ were to walk in and see us. He ruffled my hair and I leaned into it.

The waitress came up, and looked at us kinda oddly.

“Morning, boys. What can I get you?”

I half expected Nikki to order a rum and coke again, but instead he said, “Can I get some blueberry pancakes- double, and a large smoothie, two straws?”

If she wasn’t looking at us like we were nutjobs before, she definitely was now. She looked at me, as if she didn’t just hear Nikki ordering for the both of us. I just nodded at her, confirming the obvious.

As she walked away, Nikki and I laughed, but I was feeling a little nervous.

“What’s up, Tommy?” He asked, looking worried, as he played with a little strand of my hair.

“Nothing, it’s just… You saw the way that waitress was looking at us, and-”

He shook his head. “Nikki, she doesn’t know shit about us. She was just-”

“No, I know, but that’s my point. If this - us - gets out somehow, what’s gonna happen to Motley Crue?”

“I’m not gonna let anything happen to Motley Crue because some assholes don’t like the fact that we love each other. I’m not gonna let anything happen because some boring, traditionalist shits think that we should be getting tits instead of-”

I laughed, despite some of the shit going through my mind. “Yeah thanks, Nik. I get it.” I snuggled in next to him, and we sorta half-cuddled till the waitress came back around.

She set down our food, and smiled, looking much more settled and happy than the last time she saw us, even as she saw us cuddling, and about to drink a smoothie with two straws.

I smiled at her, while Tommy looked at her skeptically.

“Thanks,” I said, and grabbed a straw. I stuck it up to my mouth and looked at Nikki expectantly.

“What?”

“Do you wanna do that thing they doin the movies? Y’know, when two people drink a drink out of straws at the same time, while they look into each other’s eyes?”

He laughed, and started sipping from his straw at the same time I was sipping out of mine.

Are you hearing this? This is movie material. I love this. He gazed into my eyes, and I gazed into his beautiful green ones.

Then he crossed his eyes, and stuck his tongue out, which I was not expecting. One second we were getting lost in each other’s eyes, and the next…

I fucking sprayed smothie everywhere. I was laughing so hard it came out of my fucking nose. It wasn’t even that funny! Just surprising. I covered my face, and went bright red. It burned and it was just plain embarrassing.

Nikki was laughing, but he had a slightly worried look in his eyes.

Trying to stifle some of his laughter, he said, “Tommy, are you okay?” He scrambled to take napkins out of the holder.

I coughed. Shit did that hurt. “Yeah-” cough “I’m-” cough “I’m good, dude.” He handed me a bunch of napkins, and I grabbed them and crushed them up against my face, not really cleaning myself up. More using them to hide my face.

Even though it stung like a bitch, I laughed with him because his laugh was just so damn contagious.

“C’mon. Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, holding out his hand. I grabbed it with one hand, holding the napkins to my face with the other. He took me to the bathroom, grabbed some paper towels and got them wet.

“Nikki, you don’t have to. I can do it-”

“But I want to,” he said. It came out as more of a question than anything. Like he wanted to make sure I was okay with it.

I laughed. “Okay, babe.”

He took my napkins and tossed them out, and gently cleaned my face with the damp ones. I held his hand to my face, looking him contently in the eyes. They were the most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen. They were so green and vivid, and deep, and wild, and just amazing. I could get lost in them so easily it was almost unnerving.

He stopped wiping my now mostly clean face, and said, “You’re the only person I know who’d turn snorting a smoothie all over himself into something romantic.”

“You love it,” I claimed, gripping his hand tighter.

“Shut up, you sap,” he said, getting a little red. It reminded me of last night when we were dancing, and his face looked like a fuckin strawberry. I couldn’t stop myself from smiling.

“I might be a sap,” I admitted, throwing away the paper towels. “but at least I’m good at it.”

“I’ll give you that one,” he said smiling, leaning in close to me.

I leaned in further and rubbed our noses together like they did in the movies. He hummed contently, and wrapped his arms around me, before saying, “C’mon. Let’s get back before our pancakes get cold.”

We got back to the booth and sat down. I leaned down to drink my smoothie, but he snuck in front of me and wrapped his lips around the straw, leaving me with a mouthful of his wild black hair.

I leaned back, getting his hair out of my mouth. “What the fuck, man? Now I gotta drink out of your straw to get the taste of your fuckin shampoo out of my mouth.” He just laughed, so I drank from his straw. From then on, we stayed with our own straws. And before you say anything, No . It’s not gross. We’re cute and you’re jealous.

I hated to change the subject, but I leaned back and asked, “So, what do you think we should do about Mick and Vince?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, are we gonna tell them about us? I mean, should we?” “We have a couple options here,” He began, scooching closer to me. I looked at him, interested, so he continued. “They think we were both drunk. They think it was a one nightstand. We could play off that. We could say that we didn’t remember anything, and they could have fun with that. Or we could keep us a secret-”

I blanked out for a second, imagining us secretly holding hands under tables, or exchanging quick goodluck kisses before a concert.

“Tommy? Earth to Tommy,” he said, waving a hand.

“Oh, what?” I said, snapping out of it.

“Come here, you fuckin goob.” He pulled me into him, so I held on, inhaling the scent of cigarettes and sweet fruit. He wrapped his arms around me and continued. “As I was saying, we could tell them. But we’d have to keep it private; Between the four of us.”

“Doc would find out,” I pointed out casually.

“Between the five of us then.” He paused. “I think we should keep this between us, me and you, for now, and wait until we’re ready to tell them, or until it slips out somehow.”

“Sounds good to me, babe,” I agreed, smiling.

“He wants to keep this going. He likes me. He really likes me. And not even because I’m hot, like when people usually say they want to stay with me. He wants me for me.” I thought gleefully, digging my face into his ribs. He giggled, and lightly pushed me away. “And,” I decided. “I’m the only one who can make him giggle.”

A/N- Kaudhliaygfliasydgf sorry this took so long!! I’ve been suuuuuper busy lately. I really hope you like this chapter, and if you did, you can tell me and give the gift of serotonin!! If I haven’t told you already you can also find this and other fic(s) at my ao3 account @mayolove. If you want me to publish on Wattpad too, then let me know and I can. And as always, let me know if you want to be tagged in future chapters, or if you want to be tagged whenever I post any fic, we can also do that!! Love y’all!!